


Baby of the Band

by FireflySummerwynd



Category: Poison (US Band)
Genre: Curses, Glam Metal, Other, Pagan, hair metal, hexes, magick, spells
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 16:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 46,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21832123
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FireflySummerwynd/pseuds/FireflySummerwynd
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Prologue

“Ow–son of a fuckin’ bitch!”

Wincing as he made his way backstage after his band’s most recent show in Mears, Michigan, twenty-seven-Year-old Bobby Dall cradled his throbbing, broken hand to his chest. He’d slammed it in a car door a couple stops back when some fans drove him to their show in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, leading to him spending the Night in the ER. After that, he’d spent nearly a week sacked out in his bunk, too stoned on his painkillers to even try playing a show. It was only ’cuz he was sick of laying around when his band needed him that he’d tried a show on July third, and now–four Days later–he was really starting to regret being so stubborn.

“Ya need one of your painkillers again, Bobby?”

Looking up, he saw his band’s drummer, Rikki. “Yeah, I think so, or I’m prolly not gonna get any sleep tonight.”

“Damn, still throbbing that bad, huh?” the blonde asked with a wince of his own.

“Yeah, and trying to play isn’t helping it,” Bobby answered.

“Then let’s get that painkiller in ya, and you in your bunk,” he told him, gently steering him into the bus’ bunk room.

“Thanks, man,” the bassist sighed, kicking off his boots once he was seated on the edge of his bunk.

“Look, I know we’re starting to get on each other’s nerves again–it happens with every tour we go on,” Rikki told him as he brushed his sweaty hair back outta his face. “But even with the rifts caused by that, we’re still brothers.”

“I know that,” he told him, sounding only a hair sheepish. “We’ve all got each others’ backs, no matter what.”

“And if that means I’ve to babysit your stoned ass so ya can sleep–well, I’ll lose a few winks of my own, if that’s what it takes,” the drummer chuckled.

“You’ve no idea how much I appreciate that, man,” Bobby told him.

Letting out another chuckle, he moved to get his friend’s scrip bottle outta his suitcase so he could shake out one of the pills for him. He knew how Independent and stubborn his friend was, but he couldn’t really hold the damn thing to get the lid off right now. Even though being unable to do a lot for himself right now was driving him crazy, he knew when it was Time to break down and ask for help.

The one thing that sucked for the bassist–aside from barely being able to do his job, that is–was that he couldn’t drink while on such high-powered drugs. It’d been hitting him a lot harder than he’d let his friends and band mates think, and it seemed the painkillers were helping with even the cramps of alcohol withdrawal. Maybe that was all in his head from getting so stoned on the painkillers, or maybe it was true–he didn’t really know at the moment, and he didn’t care. All he cared about was getting a decent Night’s sleep instead of being woken up by a throbbing hand and nausea.

Once Bobby was settled in his bunk, the painkiller already starting to kick in just a few minutes after taking it, Rikki settled in to watch over him. He was still too wound up from their show to sleep just yet, and he wanted to be awake, just in case he woke back up and needed anything. Thankfully, the painkillers knocked him into a deep enough sleep that not even the band’s Melody section boarding the bus–and loudly, at that–coulda woken him back up.

Bret and CC eventually headed off to bed, alongside their manager, and the tallest blonde was the only one still awake besides their driver. With it now so quiet that all he could hear was the familiar rumble of the bus’ motor and the adrenaline starting to wear off, he wasn’t sure how much longer he’d be able to stay awake. It was starting to get hard to keep his eyes open, and only the fact that the bassist hadn’t once twitched like he was gonna wake up made him start dozing off. As his eyes drifted shut for the final Time and stayed that way, the drummer totally missed the Light that suddenly engulfed his lone brunette friend–and brought with it a helluva Change.


	2. One

Bret was the first one up early the next Morn, but part of him wasn’t surprised by that, even though it’d typically be outside the norm. Waking up to roll over and feeling like he was starving on top of having an overly-full bladder warned him that he was on the verge of being in trouble. Even if he felt like laundering his sheets at some point before that Night, as a diabetic, he couldn’t afford to sleep in if he woke feeling hungry or shaky. That was a good way to get himself into some serious trouble, as far as his Health went, and he really didn’t wanna wind up back in the hospital.

Normally, the lone brunette of his band was the first of them to rise and shine for the Morn, just as he’d been since their Days of squatting in a warehouse together. Being whacked out on painkillers for his broken hand for the last week or so, he’d become the last of them to wake for the Day. It wasn’t much of a surprise that he wasn’t already up, if he’d taken one of those painkillers before going to bed.

Shortly after he’d gotten up to Silence his bladder and check his sugar, the frontman looked up from his search through the fridge for the jelly he always kept on hand when he heard shuffling. Part of him wasn’t surprised to see his drummer stumbled outta the bunk room, hairy chest on full display since he hadn’t bothered with a shirt yet. Bret waved to him as he found what he was searching for and headed over to the couch with it, knowing he needed it–and fast.

His hand kinda flopped limply as Rikki Returned his friend’s wave, then his arms rose in a back-cracking stretch. When he’d fallen asleep the Night previous, he’d wound up in one of the weirdest positions he’d ever fallen asleep in in his Life. There was no doubt that he’d have a sore back today, but luckily, it was another one of their Days off–and the final blonde, CC, was actually pretty damn good at massages. Maybe he’d be able to talk him into giving him one so he could get back to his new norm of taking care of Bobby once the bassist woke for the Morn. If not, he’d just try to find his Advil and stretch it out as much as he could while not hurting himself any worse.

“Woke up shaky again?” CC asked sleepily as he joined the other blondes in the front lounge.

“Not exactly shaky as much as hungry,” the frontman answered, screwing the lid back on his jar. “But my sugar _was_ a lil too low when I checked it, so I figured I’d better play it safe with a couple spoonfuls before I grab anything else.”

“Prolly for the best, dude,” Rikki chuckled. “Bobby’s enough of a handful right now–we don’t need _you_ winding up in the hospital again ’cuz of your diabetes.”

“That was what I was thinking,” he laughed. “Course, you’re the one who decided to take on Bobby as a dependent when he _really_ needs the help.”

“Well, you’ve enough on your plate, and CC’s been worn out more than normal lately,” the drummer said with an eye-roll. He wasn’t about to mention the guitarist’s increasing dependence on cocaine again, ’cuz it never Ended well.

“Yeah, Rikki’s kinda the last one besides Howie or one of the roadies who _can_ help him out right now,” said shortest blonde agreed. “I don’t trust myself with doling out his painkillers properly instead of just taking ’em all, myself.”

“I should hope not at once,” Bret said, a stern note to his voice.

“Damn, Bret–I’m crazy, but not like _that!”_ he cried, vehemently shaking his head. “But comin’ down ain’t no joke, either–it hurts like a bitch, and I can’t even Begin to describe it.”

“All the more reason to get help for your problem,” the frontman told him, holding up a hand when he started to snap at him. “That’s all I’m saying on it right now, C. I woke up in a pretty good mood this Morn, and I’d rather it not get ruined before the demon wakes since we know he’s gonna be in pain right off the bat.”

Rikki couldn’t help heaving a sigh of relief at the truce they managed to call, despite the guitarist’s lips being stretched into a thin line. He knew the shortest blonde wanted to argue against having a problem with cocaine and say that he just used it to get amped up for shows and after-parties like he’d always done. But there was a difference between just using it as an upper to fight off the alcohol-induced lethargy and having a serious problem. When one wound up in a corner in the fetal position, seeing and hearing shit that wasn’t there, it was Time to get help.

All three of the blondes were distracted not by the _thump_ that suddenly came from their bunk room, but the scream that followed it. If they didn’t know any better, they’d swear it sounded like a baby or a young child, maybe a two- or three-Year-old at best. The thing was that none of them were dads–at least, that they knew of–so they’d no reason to have a baby on the bus with them.

Jumping up from where he’d settled next to Bret on the couch, the drummer headed into the bunk room to investigate what they were hearing. Maybe they’d _all_ wound up high on something the Night previous, and now they were all having the same wild hallucination together. It’d certainly be weird since he didn’t recall having even a drink, but stranger things’d happened ever since he, the frontman, and their lone brunette’d made their way out West from Pennsylvania.

Getting into the bunk room, his jaw dropped all the way down to his feet when he looked down at said appendages. In the floor in front of him sat a nekkid baby boy who couldn’t have been more than a Year old, maybe eighteen months at the oldest. He’d a bit of a knot already forming on his forehead, which told him the _thump_ they’d heard musta been this lil guy falling outta wherever he’d appeared from and hitting his head. What was even more odd to Rikki was that he looked oddly familiar, even though he couldn’t recall having ever seen this baby before. There was just something about his cute lil nose, not to mention the way the outer corners of his eyes tipped downward when he opened them.

“What the–” he started, even more surprised when the lil guy stopped crying almost as soon as he saw him. What startled him even more was when he crawled for him as fast as he could move and latched onto his leg like he was scared.

“Dude, what’s going on back here?” Bret asked, coming to investigate when the racket suddenly stopped.

“I swear, I’m having a helluva trip on something,” he answered, still looking down at his feet.

“Whaddaya–holy fuck!” the frontman gasped. Following his friend’s gaze and seeing a baby wrapped around his leg like a lil Monkey shocked him into Silence.

“Uh, Rikki–what’re ya doing with a baby?” CC asked, looking just as confused as the other two blondes as he took in the sight for himself.

“I dunno where he came from, man,” the drummer answered. “He was just in the floor, screaming his head off, when I walked in.”

The baby in question pulled his face away from where it was buried in his calf with a whimper, those big, brown eyes adorable as he pouted up at them.

“Howddaya know it’s a boy, though?” Bret asked curiously.

“Dude, I’d like to think I know what a dick looks like, no matter its owner’s age,” Rikki chuckled. “And since he was sitting with his legs wide open, not to mention he’s nekkid as a jaybird…”

“So, where the fuck’d this lil guy come from–and how’d he get here?” he asked.

“Wait a minute,” CC said, noting something the others’d apparently missed. “Look at his right arm.”

Gently pulling the baby off his leg and picking him up so he could hold him against his chest, the drummer pulled said appendage to where they could all see it. All three blondes were shocked when they saw an all-too-familiar tattoo–a topless Mermaid with an oddly-curled tail and the word _Mishy_ scrawled in cursive over her head. There was only one person on the Planet that they knew who’d a tattoo that was even remotely similar, let alone identical to what they were seeing, albeit far bigger.

_ “Bobby!?”_ they gasped in shock.

The lil guy actually nodded as he pulled his arm against his lil chest, cradling his hand much like he’d done for the last week.

“Oh, fuck–sorry, lil guy,” the drummer said. “I forgot about that since I just had my brain rebooted.”

Bobby gave him a momentary glare, prolly for calling him _lil guy,_ before letting out a pained whimper.

“Sorry, but I can’t give ya any of your painkillers like this,” he told him, feeling horrible since his hand was no doubt throbbing again. “I don’t wanna go to my grave with your blood on my hands, so to speak.”

“He’s right, Bob,” Bret told him with a sympathetic look. “Who knows what the doctor gave ya last week’ll do to ya right now?”

Those brown eyes teared up again, and they weren’t sure if it was from the pain, frustration at being unable to Communicate, or a combination.

“Well, we know his hand’s most likely still broken,” the guitarist said. “Maybe there’s some other way for him to talk to us?”

“I can’t think of anything besides crayons and paper, but we don’t have any crayons,” the frontman answered. “Besides, I doubt he’s the motor Control to actually write words, even if he _could_ use his left hand.”

“Good point,” he agreed. “I didn’t even think about that part.”

“He looks like he’s about a Year old, maybe eighteen months, at best,” Rikki chuckled. “I haven’t met a kid that age who could do more than scribble in my Life.”

The mini bassist huffed, then gasped at the same Time his friend did, his lil face turning Beet-red.

“Ah, c’mon, Bobby!” he laughed.

All he could do was whimper as he buried his face against him again.

“What’d he do?” the guitarist asked, cocking a brow.

“He pissed on me!” Rikki laughed as he rubbed his back.

Neither of the shorter blondes could help cracking up, which just made Bobby whine indignantly into the drummer’s shoulder. Given that he was physically an infant–or maybe a toddler–it wasn’t like he was gonna have the same Control he’d have as an adult. He couldn’t help that when he’d to go, he’d to go, and that he currently wasn’t diapered ’cuz they _didn’t have_ any diapers.

Calming themselves down, the guys reassured him that it was all good, that they knew he couldn’t help having an accident right now. That still didn’t make him feel much better as he peeped up at them, then buried his still-red face in warm flesh again. Feeling his friend’s heartbeat against his face was oddly Soothing, though, and he was starting to get why his own son liked for him to hold him like this whenever he was home on a short break. Sure, cuddling into one of his best friends like this was more than a lil weird, but what choice did he really have right now?

Rikki chuckled as he moved to lay him down in his bunk again, giving him a stern look as he told him not to move. He couldn’t help another indignant whine as he used his good hand to cover his lil face, his legs somehow managing to close enough to hide his junk. If there was one thing he hadn’t liked as an adult, it was for his friends to see him nekkid when they didn’t have to, and it stood to reason that he didn’t like it now.

The drummer was quick about soaking a rag and wringing it out so he could clean him up, which included the further mess he made a short Time later. After that, he couldn’t help the thoughtful look that crossed his face as he tapped his chin, wondering what he could do to prevent anymore messes. It was already established that they didn’t have any diapers at the moment, and obviously, none of Bobby’s clothes were gonna fit him. Sighing as he realized he was left with no other choices, he rose from the edge of his bunk so he could grab a pair of the bassist’s boxers. Maybe using safety pins to make them a lil tighter’d hold them on him so he’d have _something_ on his lower half.

“I know, dude–it’s just as embarrassing for me,” he told him when he let out another of his indignant whines. “But I’m kinda outta options for now.”

Said baby covered his face again, as if he were playing the _You can’t see me_ game.

“If ya weren’t responding to a lotta what we said like ya were normal, I’d swear ya were just a cute lil baby,” Rikki chuckled.

This Time, he let out an indignant squeal as he kicked at his hand as if saying, _Shut up, ya ass!_

The drummer couldn’t help a louder laugh as he got to work pinning his boxers on him, Bret and CC joining in on said laughter.

“I think that’ll work till we can make a pit stop,” the frontman said as he appraised his handiwork once he was done.

“It’ll have to,” he sighed, making sure his head was supported as he picked him back up. “Now we’ve just gotta figure out what we’re gonna feed him.”

“Yeah, that’s prolly part of where his bad mood’s coming from,” the guitarist agreed. “He’s prolly getting hungry since we didn’t really eat much yesterday.”

Bobby blushed furiously as his lil belly practically roared at the mention of food.

“Looks like you’re right,” Rikki agreed. “Hopefully, we’ve something on the bus besides Bret’s jelly that he won’t choke on.”

Suddenly hit with an idea based on something his older sister’d done with her baby daughter at this age, the bassist whined and reached toward the mini fridge once they were in the kitchenette.

“What is it, Bobby?” he asked, managing to keep his grip so he wouldn’t drop him.

_ “Ahhhh!”_ the bassist whined again, still reaching for the fridge.

Cocking a brow, he knelt down so he could open it, watching his peanut-sized friend as he scoured its contents with his eyes.

_ “Ah!”_ Bobby’s eyes lit up as he found what he was looking for, his left hand reaching out to pat it as gently as he could manage.

“Eggs–really?” the drummer asked, looking surprised.

He nodded emphatically, really Wishing he could actually talk so he could tell him his train of Thought.

That was when CC was hit with a sudden brainstorm he thought might actually work, as long as they kept eyes on the lil guy at all Times while it was in use. Even the frontman shot him an odd look as he started digging through one of the few cabinets, letting out a triumphant noise as he pulled out one of their board games. Neither of the taller blondes were quite sure what he was up to when he pulled out _Scrabble,_ ’cuz this wasn’t exactly the Time for playing games.

Bobby was quick to catch on, though, and he let out an infantile cheer as the shortest blonde took out the drawstring baggie full of letter tiles. Even as he dumped them out on the table, he was already reaching for the lil Wooden pieces, making Rikki shoot the guitarist a questioning look. Said guitarist couldn’t help a grin at his stroke of genius as he took the lil guy from him, then sat down on the bench.

Keeping a sharp eye on him to make sure none of the Wooden tiles made their way to his lil mouth, he watched as the bassist started clumsily grabbing the letters he needed. Bret kept just as sharp an eye on him, the drummer watching with a curiously-cocked brow as he shuffled the tiles around with his left hand. It took him a few moments, but he eventually formed a full, readable sentence with the tiles before removed his lil hand and plopped himself down on CC’s leg to let them read what he’d more or less written.

“So, Patty’s given Katie scrambled Eggs before?” Rikki asked, sounding surprised.

The peanut-sized bassist nodded emphatically, then made to haul himself up again.

“Careful, lil guy,” the guitarist said, helping him stand up since he couldn’t use both hands and didn’t exactly have the best balance.

Bobby shot him a dirty look over his shoulder, then went to furiously rearranging Wooden tiles again.

_ “Katie doesn’t choke, as long as they’re chopped into tiny pieces,”_ the frontman read once he was done. “Well, who’re we to argue, if he’s seen it with his own eyes and it gets him fed now?”

“Hey, I’m not arguing the point, either,” the drummer laughed. “And I can definitely chop them into tiny enough pieces to keep him from choking.”

Cheering again, their peanut-sized friend plopped himself back down in the shortest blonde’s lap, his lil belly growling again.

“I think he says, _Then get to it, jerk!”_ Bret chuckled.

The bassist couldn’t help a nod as his left thumb gravitated to his mouth, making him look adorable as he started sucking on it unconsciously. None of the blondes could resist cooing at him, which just made him roll his eyes, even though it felt a lil weird since he was right-handed. Part of him was just about ready to piss on one of them again, ’cuz he didn’t consider himself cute like this–but then again, he hadn’t seen himself in a mirror yet, either.

Once Rikki’d scrambled enough Eggs for all of them, the lone brunette’s chopped into the tiniest pieces he could manage, he started serving up plates. The only reason he hadn’t bothered with bacon this Morn was ’cuz he knew that’d be a choking hazard, no matter how small he chopped it, and he didn’t wanna tease him.

As they settled at the small table to eat, Bobby reached out to his lil salad plate with his left hand to grab chunks. Just ’cuz he was currently trapped in the body of an infant didn’t mean he was totally helpless, and he preferred to feed himself. Since this was basically finger-food to him–which was exactly why he’d wanted Eggs, not ’cuz he particularly liked them–he was more than capable of feeding himself. Besides, turning him loose to stuff small fistfuls in his mouth when he was ready was just downright adorable, as far as the rest of the guys were concerned. Thankfully, those small fistfuls and them getting washed down with milk kept him from choking and scaring a decade off their Lives.

With breakfast consumed, Bret took their peanut-sized friend to go make sure he hadn’t wet himself again or anything. The drummer was busy rifling through all of their suitcases for the smallest T-shirt he could find so he’d have less to have to pin up, CC taking care of cleaning up their mess. It was imperative that they make a stop at the nearest Wal-Mart or something so they could get supplies to care for him with before they did anything else. After that came the bigger question–what were they gonna do about their tour till they could Return him to normal, _if_ that was even possible?


	3. Two

The first thing on the agenda once their driver managed to find a Wal-Mart for them to stop at was getting Bobby some diapers before he wet or shit himself again. Luckily, Rikki was able to bluff his way through being a single dad who’d recently gotten custody of his infant son and didn’t know the first thing about shopping for an infant. He was able to make it seem like he was far more overwhelmed than he really was, which got one of the sales floor associates to take pity on him and lead him to the childcare section. Sure, it was mortifying for both of them, but it wasn’t exactly like they’d any other choices at the moment unless they wanted to do nothing.

Before she’d help him pick the best product, she asked him if he knew how much his son weighed, which made him draw a blank. None of them’d the slightest idea what the peanut-sized bassist currently weighed, which was obviously nowhere near his norm of a buck-forty-five or so. The woman couldn’t help a giggle as she changed courses and headed to the home goods section, which confused both of the males following her.

Grabbing a household scale off the shelf, she deftly opened its box without causing any damage that’d render the store unable to sell it. As she calibrated it so they’d get pretty close to the brunette’s weight, she told the drummer that diaper sizes were generally dependent on knowing an infant or toddler’s weight. By knowing his weight, they’d be able to find diapers more likely to contain any messes rather than leave him needing constant baths, not to mention frequent loads of laundry to be done. Rikki couldn’t help a chuckle as he admitted that this was exactly why he’d asked for her help upon arrival.

“Looks to me like this lil guy’s about twenty-eight pounds,” she told him after he’d stood his friend on the scale, letting him hold on to his fingers for balance.

“I thought that felt about right,” he said, gently picking him back up. “One of my friends has a niece about his age, and I thought he felt like he weighed about as much as her.”

“This means he’ll likely need a size-three diaper, but that can also depend on which brand ya get, too,” the woman explained. “Let’s actually head over to childcare this Time, and we’ll see what we’ve in stock that oughta fit him.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Rikki agreed, gesturing for her to lead the way as he let his friend pretty much sit on his forearm.

In the diaper aisle, the woman–whose name tag read _Lucy_–scoured the shelf for a moment before she plucked down two packages. “Huggies _Lil Movers_ and Pampers _Cruisers_ are just the right size for him.”

“What’s the difference?” the drummer asked curiously.

“Really, just a general preference of the parent,” she laughed. “I’ve had customers tell me that they’re about the same in absorbency, so it doesn’t really matter which one ya get.”

“I think I’ll try one of each–make sure he’s not gonna be sensitive to one, but not the other,” he told her.

“Prolly the smartest choice, actually,” Lucy admitted. “That all ya needed help with?”

“Oh, I’ve a lot more to get for this lil guy,” Rikki told her, a blush finally tinting his face a bit. “But diapers were at the top of the list before he pees on me again.”

The young woman’s mouth opened in a slight _O_ of surprise, and Bobby was glad his face was buried against his _daddy’s_ throat. He was already having a hard Time trying to hold it since his lil bladder was weak, but he didn’t wanna piss on his friend again any more than the drummer wanted to be used as a potty.

Apparently sensing the discomfort of the infant he held, she led him back up to the front of the store so they could get at least those diapers bought. Only once he’d paid for them would he be allowed to take them into any of the bathrooms, which was understandable. If he were allowed to take them outta range of any security cameras before they were bought, it stood to reason that he might steal them, even though he’d more than enough money to afford them. Rikki was pretty sure even the peanut-sized bassist wanted to avoid trouble, or he’d have tried to argue the point.

With the diapers purchased so he wouldn’t get in trouble, he headed off to the nearest restroom, hoping they’d make it in Time. Luckily, his friend was able to hold it till he was able to hold him over the toilet in the handicap stall, which was the only one with a changing table in it. Once he wasn’t in Danger of being pissed on, Bobby let go with a whimper that was followed by a relieved sigh. He didn’t even care that he’d to piss right through the boxers pinned on him, knowing they’d come off in just a few moments. It wasn’t like he’d get left in something that was gonna make him raw and sore for very long, so he was able to tolerate it.

Once his friend was done, Rikki moved to lay him on the changing table so he could take his own turn before he slapped a diaper on him. He’d the feeling they were gonna be in here for a while, and he didn’t wanna have to run off in the middle of shopping for a potty break of his own. Bret and CC were generally trustworthy, but the peanut-sized bassist seemed to wanna stay with him more than the shorter blondes, and they didn’t need any problems today.

“All right, let’s see if I’ve this thing on ya right, buddy,” the drummer said, gently picking him up so he was standing on the changing table.

Bobby wiggled and squirmed as much as he could manage, squealing happily when nothing he seemed to do could make the diaper fall back off him.

“I’d say that looks like a job well done,” he chuckled, cuddling him against his chest. “Now, let’s go grab a cart and find those two goofs before they get themselves in trouble.”

The peanut-sized bassist squealed again, wrapping an arm around his neck as he snuggled even closer.

“Finally found ya again.”

Looking up from grabbing a shopping cart, Rikki saw the shorter blondes. “Yeah, sorry–the chick that helped me out kinda led me on a Wild Goose chase at first.”

“Whaddaya mean?” the frontman asked as he settled their friend in the seat and strapped him in.

“I didn’t have the slightest idea what size diapers he needed,” he admitted, his face turning pink again. “And I didn’t have any idea what he weighed, either.”

“What’s his weight got to do with diapers?” CC asked, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Everything, if ya wanna get a size that fits and does what it’s supposed to instead of hurting him or letting him make a giant mess,” the drummer laughed.

“Then I’m guessing one of the chicks that works here helped ya figure out what he weighs?” the frontman asked.

“In a way that I wouldn’t have thought of, as much as I’ve on my mind already,” Rikki answered.

“Well, let’s go get him some other essentials,” Bret said. “We won’t buy too much since we can always get more once we’re back in LA.”

“I’d say at least a few outfits, and more than two packs of diapers, for sure,” he agreed.

“Don’t forget baby food,” the guitarist chuckled. “We might be able to find a few things that’re safe for him to eat, but I’m still kinda lost on that one.”

Bobby scrunched his nose at the Thought of baby food, but supposed it was better than starving for hell only knew how long.

First things first, they needed to get him at least two or three outfits, ’cuz he was bound to make a mess with either his food or diaper at some point. The drummer managed to find the woman who’d helped him before, playing up his previous story about being a single dad again. She cocked a brow as she gave pointed looks to Bret and CC, who he introduced as his friends and today’s helpers–which they actually were on both counts.

Lucy listened as he explained that none of them’d the first idea on how to figure out what size clothes the lil boy needed any more than they coulda found the right size diaper. That led her to asking whether he could walk or not, which left them all scratching their heads as they looked to each other, then to their peanut-sized friend. They honestly hadn’t given him a chance to try yet, if only ’cuz they’d been on a moving tour bus and now inside the store, so he hadn’t had a reason to or been in a safe enough environment. Rikki Returned his gaze to the young woman and told her that he honestly didn’t know, ’cuz it’d been about a month since he’d last seen his son.

“Then take him outta the cart, and we’ll see if he can walk or not,” she told him. “It doesn’t have to be very far–just a few steps between a couple of ya, and we’ll know.”

“I’m guessing whether he can walk or not factors into his clothing size like his weight did with the diapers,” he said as he unbuckled the seat belt.

“Well, ya wanna get clothes that’re big enough to accommodate not only his diaper, but any moving and grooving he’s gonna be doing,” the young woman said. “Ya don’t wanna get clothes geared toward a baby that can only crawl for one who can walk, ’cuz they’re generally too tight on older babies.”

“Makes sense,” Bret said, nodding as he knelt down a couple feet away.

“Let’s see if ya can make it to Uncle Bret, buddy,” the drummer said, holding him steady as he knelt down, himself.

Bobby couldn’t help kicking his legs in an instinctive reflex that kinda looked like walking when his bare feet hit the cold tile floor.

“C’mon to Uncle Bret,” the frontman encouraged him, making a _come-hither_ motion with his hands as he played along.

It took him a moment to find his balance, but once he did, he managed to take a tentative step toward him with his arms held out to maintain that balance.

“You’re doing so good, buddy,” Rikki chuckled, keeping his hands close so he could catch him, if need be.

The peanut-sized bassist grunted as he took another step, then another after that that propelled him in Bret’s Direction. Each step he took was a bit faster than the last, and he quickly made his way over to his friend without any problems. Well, till he went to stop, which threw him off-balance and forced the shorter blonde to catch him before he fell and whacked his head again.

Cheering softly, he picked him up and tossed him a few inches into the Air, making him let out a surprised squeal as he dropped back into his waiting hands. Bobby wrapped his arms around his neck and clung tightly, not about to let him do that again as the others laughed at his expense. It was no Wonder his own son, Zach, squealed every Time he’d do that to him–no doubt he thought he was gonna drop him to go _splat!_ on the floor. He made a mental note to himself not to do that to the poor lil guy anymore once he was back to normal and could, if he wanted to.

Lucy told them as they rose back to their feet that he was better off in bigger sizes, but they’d have to see what fit once they got into the childrens’ clothes. He might need up to a two-T, even though he was said to be only a Year old, which was actually more common than they might think. It depended mostly on his height and waist size, but it was better to get slightly baggy clothing for him than something that wound up being too tight.

Sure enough, Bobby turned out to need a size two-T since his legs were actually pretty long for an infant of his supposed age. He wasn’t exactly surprised by that, though, ’cuz he was six feet tall as an adult–he’d often have trouble finding things that fit ’cuz a lotta stuff just wasn’t long enough for his legs. The rest of the guys didn’t seem surprised, either, and if they were, he supposed they were hiding it pretty well as they moved on to things like T-shirts. Luckily for him, they’d a few different designs Centered around rock ‘n’ roll or motorcycles that fit him, which made him squeal happily as they let him pick out his own clothes as well as he could.

“I guess the next thing’s gonna be stuff like socks and shoes,” Rikki said, settling him back in the seat of the cart he’d been pushing.

“Prolly a good idea, if he can walk,” the frontman agreed.

“Yeah, we don’t want him cutting his feet by walking around barefoot, and we don’t want them getting cold, either,” CC chimed in.

“My Thoughts exactly, guys,” the drummer said as they continued wandering around.

At this point, Bobby was just quietly looking around, his left thumb stuck back in his mouth to suck on since he didn’t have a paci or anything.

“Let’s go with shoes first,” the tallest blonde said. “Maybe that’ll help us with finding socks that’re the right size.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Bret agreed with a nod. “They’ve a size chart right here, too.”

“C’mon, buddy–let’s see what a big-footcha are,” Rikki chuckled, unbuckling him once again.

The peanut-sized bassist let out an indignant squeal around his thumb, clearly saying he _wasn’t_ a big-footed anything.

“Dude, your feet’re like clown feet,” the guitarist snickered. “They’re huge as an adult.”

He woulda kicked his shin, if he’d thought he could stand on his own long enough to do it without falling right on his lil behind.

“Looks like he’s a…size four and a-half,” the drummer said after settling his lil foot against the chart. “We might wanna go with a five, though, just to be sure his feet won’t get pinched when he’s wearing socks, too.”

“Maybe even a five and a-half or a six,” Bret told him.

Nodding, the drummer moved to start looking through the selection of baby shoes that were on the shelf to see what was currently in stock. He didn’t wanna buy him anything too childlike, knowing that while he might be a baby right now, Bobby no doubt didn’t wanna _be_ babied. The last thing he needed was him trying to kick any of them ’cuz they tried to put shoes covered in goofy cartoon characters that he didn’t like on his feet.

Thankfully, there were several pairs of lil sneakers that were solid black, as well as a couple pairs of lil cowboy boots in the same Color. None of the blondes could help a laugh at how he squealed happily at the sight of the boots, considering that he wore cowboy boots more often than he didn’t as an adult. As long as they could find some in his size–even a slightly bigger one to accommodate his socks–they were all for getting him what he liked. If they could manage it, the point was to make him feel as normal as possible in his current state, not make him feel like a child since he obviously still had his adult mind up in that lil noggin.

With his footwear picked out, they sized his socks based on the size of his new shoes and boots before heading off for other essentials. Even CC was pretty sure he wasn’t quite big enough for sippie cups, which meant getting at least a pack of bottles for milk, juice, and any other fluids they gave him. At least he wouldn’t be able to really make a mess, if he dropped it due to hitting a bump or anything.

From there, they were actually able to find all kindsa baby food that wasn’t necessarily that jarred goop that’d made him make faces earlier when he thought about it. Much to their surprise, they were able to find lil yogurt and veggie melts in flavors of things he actually liked, as well as flavored lil teething biscuits to give him a bit of crunch. However, they were also Inspired by what they could give him that he’d normally eat as an adult, based on the products they saw on the shelf. At least he’d be able to have waffles or pancakes, the Thought of which made him squeal happily for the umpteenth Time.

“All right, I think we’ve everything we need from this section,” Rikki said. “He’s bottles, pacis, lil dishes and utensils for us to feed him with, and teething toys so he won’t turn those lil chompers on us.”

“Good, ’cuz the first Time he bites me just to be an ass, I’ma bite him back,” the frontman threatened.

“Ya can’t bite him too hard, though,” he warned him. “He’s gonna bruise easier than he normally would, and if I’ma pretend to be his daddy, you’re not getting me thrown in the slammer for child abuse, damn it.”

“I didn’t say I was gonna take a chunk out, jeez,” Bret chuckled. “But I’m not letting him bite me and get away with it, either.”

Bobby blew a raspberry at him as best he could, clearly telling him that he was tempted to bite him now.

“You’re such a goof, Bobby,” the guitarist laughed, ruffling the lil bit of hair on his head.

Squealing indignantly, he swatted at his hands with his one good hand, the tried to smooth his hair back down as much as he could.

“Yeah, that’s it, buddy–remind him who getsta touchie the hair,” the drummer laughed as he smoothed it back down for him.

Infantile grumbles answered him as the peanut-sized bassist glared at the shorter blondes.

“Let’s get him some stuff for bathtime,” Rikki said with a sigh as he headed off. “At least then, we won’t have to worry about our stuff burning his eyes or drying out his skin too much.”

“Prolly for the best since his skin’s no doubt more sensitive now,” CC agreed.

In the baby bath aisle, it didn’t take the drummer long to decide on Johnson’s _Head-to-Toe_ wash, which’d cover everything from shampoo to body wash. Stumbling across their _Bedtime_ lotion and bath wash made him think getting those’d prolly be a good idea, too. Bobby’d a few Nights where it was hard for him to sleep, and he didn’t think he’d be any different than he normally was. If a warm bath with something geared toward helping a baby sleep allowed him to get the rest he needed, he was all for giving it a try. The only other thing they really needed from the bathtime and diaper section was baby powder to keep him from getting a diaper rash, if they could help it.

By the Time they added a few toys to entertain him with and a car seat for his safety to the list, the peanut-sized bassist was starting to yawn. It’d been a big Day so far, and even if it hadn’t been, younger kids were known for needing a nap sooner than adults and older kids. None of his friends were surprised by the adorable, sleepy pout he shot them as they waited in line to check out, but at least he wasn’t screaming and pitching a fit ’cuz he was tired.

Getting their cart load back out to the bus without incident went a lot smoother than they’d thought it was gonna be. Considering their logo was all over said bus and they were generally recognized wherever they went, they’d thought a few fans woulda run up to them by now. Thankful that they wouldn’t have to deal with any such thing right now, they got their purchases loaded up, Rikki heading off to give their friend a snack before getting him settled for the nap he clearly needed.


	4. Three

Getting Bobby to sleep for his nap took a bit longer than he’d been anticipating, if only ’cuz the peanut-sized bassist was a bit stubborn, but the drummer finally managed to do it. Putting that new bedtime baby lotion to use by giving him a bit of a rub-down helped with that endeavor, and he finally drifted off with a soft sigh.

Rikki gently slipped his paci between his lips before moving to tuck his favorite throw blanket around him so he’d stay warm. He didn’t wanna disturb him by trying to put his lil T-shirt back on him just yet, but he knew the rest of them liked the AC to be turned down pretty low. If he left him in nothing but a diaper, he’d no doubt get cold and wake up with a squeal like he’d imagine a cold bath’d make him let out. Beyond that, he’d no doubt be cranky from not getting the nap he needed, which’d just lead to pissing the rest of them off when they got sick of his shit.

“He asleep yet?”

Looking up as he entered the front lounge, that visual of Bobby sprawled out on his back and sucking on his paci still dancing over his mind’s eye, he nodded. “Took me a bit longer than I planned ’cuz he wanted to be a lil stubborn, but that’s Bobby for ya.”

“At least he’s asleep now,” Bret sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Yeah, ’cuz we’ve a chat we need to have.”

Rikki sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as he sat down, even CC rubbing his temples since they knew what was coming. No matter how much they wanted to, there was no way they could continue the tour when their bassist was stuck wearing diapers and squealing. It wasn’t fair to ask his tech to fill in for him constantly for what could be weeks, if not months before he Returned to normal. Besides, what kinda statement could they release on his sudden disappearance since he couldn’t show his face to the public?

Considering they didn’t have the first idea as to how and why he’d gone to bed a grown man somewhat whacked out on painkillers, then woken up as an infant, they were at a loss. They couldn’t even Begin to figure out how to get him back to normal without knowing what–besides the obvious–had happened in the first place. Lacking that particular Knowledge was what was driving them crazier than just about anything, even taking care of him, right now.

“Ya know what?”

The taller blondes looked surprised to hear their Brooklyn-born guitarist speak up.

“Maybe ya guys’re right about me needing help,” CC started, making their jaws drop. “Don’t look at me like that–I’ve enough demons in my head giving me weird looks, so I don’t need them from my friends, too.”

“Well, damn–I never thought the Day’d come that we’d hear him say that, Rik,” Bret breathed, still shocked.

“Me, either,” he agreed. “But what made ya finally admit it, C?”

“’Cuz I can tell you’re sick of my behavior, and I’m willing to take one for the team,” the guitarist answered.

“Whaddaya mean, CC?” their manager, Howie, asked curiously.

“We obviously can’t tell the World that Bobby’s a diaper-shitting rugrat,” he told them pointedly. “So what other excuses can we use for cancelling a tour right in the middle of it?”

All their jaws dropped as what he was getting at Dawned on them.

“Yeah, exactly,” CC said. “Better to say tensions grew to a head and we were better off cancelling the tour before somebody seriously got hurt than to tell the public the Truth.”

“And with pretty much everyone on the Planet knowing about our recent tensions…” The frontman couldn’t help a thoughtful look as he trailed off.

“It’s no doubt gonna make me look like the bad guy for the rest of Eternity, but I don’t care,” the guitarist said. “I’d rather look like the bad guy than for Bobby to wind up in some gov’ment science lab as a living lab Rat to find out how a grown man’s trapped in a baby’s body.”

The taller blondes couldn’t help a wince at that gruesome Thought, and neither could their manager. If word got out that the bassist’d woken up in this state outta nowhere, he’d no doubt be taken from them and hauled off to be experimented on. With no way besides _Scrabble_ tiles–which he no doubt wouldn’t be given in such a place–to Communicate, he wouldn’t be able to state his Wishes for or against the matter. He’d be just another patient who was treated like they’d heard a ton of folks in psych wards got treated, and none of them wanted to see that happen to him.

Outta choices about what to do with their current predicament, they all agreed it was better to End the tour early than to keep going. Bret and Rikki made absolutely sure the shortest blonde was serious in saying he’d take one for the team, as it were, before turning their manager loose. He assured them that he was, whether it forced him into rehab sooner than he’d like or not, with a single nod.

Hearing a soft Sound from the bunk room, the drummer got up to go check on their friend, just in case he’d woken up. Maybe he’d just moaned in his sleep like he sometimes did as an adult, maybe it was really a grunt that preceded him making a mess of his diaper. They wouldn’t know without somebody going to check on him, and Bret needed to check his sugar since it was pushing lunchtime for what they’d call a normal Day. Left as the only one who could do it, he didn’t mind checking on the quite literal baby of his band, which he’d been doing for a week, anywhore. The sight that met his eyes drew a smile he simply couldn’t help to his face, despite their current circumstances.

Still sprawled on his back with his limbs flung in every Direction, Bobby frowned around his paci and grunted again as he shifted his hips. He was no doubt leaving him a helluva present in that diaper, but what surprised the drummer was that he didn’t even wake up to do it. He’d to bite back laughter to avoid waking him as he wondered how on Earth that was even possible, no matter his age. There was no way he’d sleep through the need to shit as an adult, so how’d he manage to as an infant?

_ “Mmm,”_ the peanut-sized bassist moaned, his eyes cracking open and lips working as he suckled his paci again.

“Well, hey there, buddy,” Rikki said softly, letting him grab his finger in his good hand.

He looked confused for a second, then whimpered as he squirmed.

“Ya done filling that thing up?” the drummer chuckled softly. “Or am I just gonna have to change ya again as soon as I get the clean one on ya?”

Bobby squirmed again, his face screwing up like he was gonna spit his paci out and start crying.

“Uh, uh, uh–none of that, now,” he told him. “If you’re done, I’ll go ahead and clean ya up, but I wanted to give ya a minute to be sure.”

The peanut-sized bassist started to take a deep breath and scream, only to cut himself off with a grunt as he felt the need to go again.

“See, that’s exactly what I meant,” Rikki chuckled.

As he finally managed to finish up, the drummer moved to get out one of the fresh diapers, not to mention baby wipes he’d bought. He wasn’t quite sure just how much of a present he’d just been left, but he knew his friend needed to be cleaned up. The poor thing’d wind up with diaper rash–or giving the blondes a collective headache–if he just left him there with a dirty diaper on. Not wanting a headache when they already had enough going on and still had to break the news about cancelling the tour to him, he made to get him cleaned up.

Left with few other choices, Bobby merely laid there and kept sucking on his new paci as he endured his friend cleaning him up. He couldn’t help turning pink with embarrassment, which just made the blonde currently holding his legs up to wipe his ass chuckle. There prolly wasn’t much that was as embarrassing as being unable to wipe his own ass, but if there was, he’d no doubt find out.

With the fresh diaper fastened around the peanut-sized bassist’s chubby lil waist, Rikki grabbed the tiny jeans he’d bought him earlier to put back on him. He was just glad that he held still for him, then let him sit him up to put his pint-sized rocker shirt back on, too. The only trouble he gave him was feeling the need to reach up and rub his eyes just as he was trying to pull said shirt down over his head, but he couldn’t really help that. Considering that fact, he just decided to cease and desist till he was done yawning and rubbing the sleep Sand outta his eyes, which didn’t take him very long, even though he was still half-asleep.

Only Bobby’s lil belly letting out a soft grumble made him pick him up, ’cuz he’d been planning on letting him go back to sleep. The drummer couldn’t help a chuckle as the lil guy snuggled against him as he carried him out to the front lounge, where Bret was chilling as he waited on his lunch to cook. Said shorter blonde waved, chuckling as he wound up with their friend in his lap so the taller one could start on their own lunch and have both hands to work with.

“Still sleepy, huh, bud?” he asked.

_ “Mmmph,”_ the peanut-sized bassist grumbled, burying his face against his side.

“Well, hopefully my pits don’t stink too bad,” Bret laughed, even as he wrapped an arm around him.

“I don’t think he really cares right now,” the drummer chuckled. “Babies’re weird like that when they decide to get their cuddles on.”

“And if he’s more or less asleep like I think he is, I guess he’s not gonna care,” he agreed.

“He’s prolly still smelling that bedtime lotion, anywhore,” Rikki told him. “That was ’bout the only thing to put him to sleep in the first place.”

“I thought he smelled flowery–and maybe kinda fruity?” the frontman said, the second half coming out in a bit of a questioning tone.

“Damned if I know what all scents’re in that stuff,” he laughed. “I just know between that and a mini-massage, he was out till he needed a fresh diaper.”

“Hey, I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,” Bret chuckled, rubbing the lil guy’s back when he squirmed. “Better than a dirty gym bag, for sure.”

Bobby _hmphed_ against his shirt, and he could feel his lil nose moving as he nuzzled him.

“Hey, wake your butt up, squirt,” the drummer said with a grin. “Lunch’s almost ready.”

He deftly raised his fist behind him, middle finger purposely raised as he kept his face buried.

Neither of the blondes could help bursting into laughter as that particular move proved well enough that he still had his adult mind. There wasn’t an actual baby on the Planet that’d Intentionally flip someone the Bird in response to something they said. Hell, there prolly wasn’t an actual baby alive who knew what that particular hand gesture meant when adults gave it to each other.

The peanut-sized bassist still wasn’t able to fall back to sleep, the scents of whatever his friend was cooking making his belly grumble again. If he hadn’t actually been feeling hungry, he’d have been shooting evil looks down at his middle since he’d thought he was done with a dirty diaper for the moment. But since he hadn’t really had much to eat over the course of the Morn, even Bobby knew that his body was just demanding sustenance the only way it could. If that meant grumbling guts that wouldn’t shut up till he stuffed his face–well, he supposed he’d just have to deal with it.

Rikki quickly served the frontman’s grilled cheese to him, laughing as their friend popped his head up and started sniffing like a curious Dog. Said shorter blonde took a bite, which made him whine since he’d no doubt thought it was for him when it got handed over. Luckily, that whining was quickly Silenced when he came over to the couch with one that _was_ for him, as well as one for himself. And that wasn’t including the Mater soup he’d added to it to make sure he got enough to eat in this meal.

Bobby was all too eager to tear into the sammich, eagerly taking as big of bites as he could manage when the taller blonde held it up for him. He even reached up with his good hand to try grabbing it for himself since grilled cheeses were always a bit on the floppy side once they were done. Both of the men currently with him were proud to see him trying to do as much for himself as he could, given his physical state, but there was something else lurking on their minds. Since his hand was broken upon going to bed the Night previous and he still seemed to be favoring it, they needed to figure out how to get him treatment for it–again–without raising too many questions.

It took a couple Days for the band to get back home in Los Angeles, considering they’d started this Journey up in Michigan. By the Time they got into the City of Angels, they’d decided that Bobby was better off staying with the drummer for now. He didn’t seem to really wanna be around the shorter blondes, although he’d make do with Bret when his chosen favorite wasn’t available, for whatever reason.

Every Time they’d stop for fuel or something else on their way home, Rikki was constantly trying to get in touch with the peanut-sized bassist’s family. Word had already broken that they’d cancelled the tour supposedly due to CC’s raging addiction, and he knew they were prolly worried. They were used to hearing from the brunette within a few hours, maybe a Day of him getting off the road, and for so much Time to’ve passed without a word, he knew they must be worried sick. It seemed they were out searching for him or something, though, ’cuz no one ever answered the phone when he called.

“All right, buddy,” he said with a soft groan as he picked him up from the corral they’d built outta guitar cases. “Let’s getcha inside so I can unload our stuff.”

Bobby whined softly as he wrapped his arms around his neck, still favoring the hand he’d broken nearly two weeks ago.

“I know you’re sleepy–so am I,” the drummer told him. “But I gotta get our stuff inside before I can lay down with ya again.”

He simply pouted up at him, then let out a defeated sigh and laid his head down on his shoulder.

“I’ll be as quick as I can, buddy,” Rikki promised him, gently laying him down in the Center of his bed.

The peanut-sized bassist nodded as he nuzzled his face into one of his pillows, clearly not in Danger of falling into the floor as he made himself comfy.

“Good Luck, man–you’re gonna need it,” Bret said as he helped him unload their stuff.

“Thanks, dude,” the drummer chuckled.

“Don’t forget thatcha can call me anytime, if ya need help, though,” he told him.

“I won’t, but I’ma still try to get in touch with at least his mother,” Rikki answered. “I think that if there’s anyone who doesn’t already who needsta know, it’s Lynda.”

“Definitely true, but I’m still closer than her for the moment,” the frontman said. “And besides, you’re gonna get worn out pretty quick, trying to chase after a baby on your own.”

“I’ll make it work somehow,” he chuckled. “Even once Deanna gets back from her parents’ house.”

Bret frowned and rolled his eyes at the mention of his girlfriend, but he’d been expecting that as soon as he brought her up. She’d never gotten along with the rest of his band any more than they’d gotten along with her, so he wasn’t surprised in the slightest. If anything, he was just grateful that they could at least be civil when in one another’s company, even if they talked shit behind each others’ backs.

With their luggage brought into the house he owned up in the Hollywood Hills, Rikki felt like he could definitely use that nap. There was no way he could unpack his and his friend’s stuff just yet, as exhausted as he felt from the last couple Days. If it’d been just his own stuff, he coulda managed before he just flopped across his bed, but not two peoples’ worth of stuff. And especially not when he’d to figure out where he was gonna store everything that’d been bought for the peanut-sized bassist while he was trapped in the body of a baby.

In the master bedroom, the drummer couldn’t help a smile as he saw his friend curled up with his thumb in his mouth. Bobby’d grabbed the teddy bear he’d bought him and dragged it against his chest, his lil face buried in it as he napped. His breathing was even and peaceful, and he knew it’d be at least a couple hours before he woke up needing a diaper change and to be fed. Considering how tired he was, he didn’t know if a couple hours’d be long enough for him, but he’d have to make it work–again.


	5. Four

As soon as they awoke from their nap, Rikki knew he was gonna have to take his chances with taking the peanut-sized bassist to the hospital. He’d been trying to avoid doing that since he didn’t have even a fake Birth certificate that he could fill out to take with him to prove he was his supposed daddy. But when the lil guy woke up and started screaming, cradling his hand even closer to his chest than he’d done for the last couple Days, he knew their Luck’d run out on that.

Unbelievably, somebody rang the doorbell just as he was finishing packing up his diaper bag to take with them and was about to get his car seat in his car. Heaving a frustrated sigh, the drummer moved to answer the door, wondering who could possibly be paying him a visit at this particular moment. Surprise colored his features as he saw Bret standing on his front stoop, a piece of paper in his left hand.

“Oh, boy–sounds like I’m just in Time,” the shorter blonde chuckled.

“I figured you’d be at home, just chilling out,” Rikki said, making sure he was loud enough to be heard over their friend’s crying.

“Figured ya could use a favor,” he told him, grinning as he held up the sheet of paper.

The drummer’s eyes widened as he saw that it was a Birth certificate, especially when he saw how real it looked.

“One of my old friends married a midwife,” Bret explained. “He’s one of those Lead-lined vault types, and so is she–I figured if anyone could help us cover our tracks, it’d be them.”

“So, ya got them to print out a blank Birth certificate for ya?” he asked, still surprised.

“Hell, I didn’t even have to ask!” the frontman laughed. “Erin offered to after I explained what’d happened and I showed her a Polaroid I got of Bobby when he wasn’t looking.”

“But are ya sure they’re not gonna get in trouble for this?” Rikki asked nervously.

His friend assured him that the midwife’d gotten her sister to play the part of the doting mommy, who was supposed to be outta town on a business trip. As long as he used his legal name, it was doubtful that anyone in an ER’d recognize him as the drummer of Poison. The other big thing was that Bobby’d gotten a bit of a name Change, too, so he couldn’t use the peanut-sized bassist’s legal name. According to the new, fake Birth certificate, he was now _Robert Harley Ream_ instead of _Robert Harry Dall_.

The frontman’d even cooked up an excuse to explain away the tattoo on his arm that he’d gotten for his wife not long after they’d gotten engaged. Since Rikki was a pretty good artist, he could say that his son’d seen somebody else with the tattoo–or at least, a similar one–and wanted his daddy to draw it on him with Crayola markers.

If it weren’t for how much pain the brunette was obviously in, he’d have tried to argue the point and say that maybe this wasn’t a good idea. As it stood, he wouldn’t be able to take his screaming for much longer, even though he’d a damn good reason for doing so much of it. Taking the pen his friend held, Rikki made the snap decision to sign his name in the box reserved for the father’s signature so they could get moving. He clearly needed treatment for his hand since its cast’d come off when his body shrunk, so any kind and amount of extra damage coulda been done to it in the last couple Days on their way home from Michigan.

While the drummer was signing the Birth certificate and getting Bobby ready to go, Bret headed out to his garage to at least start getting the car seat in his car. Even if he couldn’t get it buckled into the back seat, he could at least get it hefted in and positioned so it could be buckled in. That’d certainly help his friend, who seemed desperate to help the baby in his care almost to the point that it seemed like he really _was_ his daddy.

“Thanks again, dude,” Rikki said, the car seat now strapped into his back seat and the peanut-sized bassist strapped into it.

“No problem, man,” he answered, gently squeezing his shoulder. “Just tell whoever takes ya back thatcha were working on lunch, didn’t see him, and accidentally slammed his hand in a cabinet door.”

“Ya sure that’ll work, though?” the drummer asked, biting his lip.

“Better than trying to tell them he was originally an adult who slammed his hand in a car door a couple weeks ago,” Bret chuckled.

“Yeah, I guess that’s true enough,” he agreed with a slight chuckle of his own.

“Hey, babies’re known for getting underfoot,” the frontman reminded him. “Not seeing him and accidentally slamming his hand in a cabinet door’s totally plausible. And the fact that you’re bringing him in to find out if it’s broken or not and have it treated, if it is, shows you’re a caring daddy that loves his son, not an abusive ass.”

Rikki couldn’t help a snort and eye-roll as he climbed into his car at how ridiculous that sounded, but he knew he didn’t have any other choice right now.

* * *

In the ER of UCLA Mattel Children’s Hospital roughly ten miles away, Bobby clung to his supposed daddy as tightly as he could. He didn’t wanna be separated from the drummer, if at all possible, considering that he couldn’t talk to even say his name, let alone tell the Truth or a lie. Said drummer was his physical voice as much as his guardian right now, so even though his hand was on the verge of going numb from whatever he’d done to it, he wanted to stay with him.

Luckily for him, the charge nurse who was running the desk when they walked in seemed to be pretty understanding. She acted almost like she was used to seeing clingy kids who refused to let their parents outta sight come through the doors, and he was relieved. Maybe that meant that she wouldn’t try to take him away from Rikki, that she’d let the blonde stay through whatever exam he was given.

“Just set him down here, and we’ll start with getting his vitals, Mr. Ream,” she told him.

“Daddy’s not going anywhere, buddy,” the blonde promised as he settled him on a gurney, really playing up his supposed role. “Daddy’s staying right here with ya.”

“So, what happened to the lil fella?” the nurse asked, grabbing what they both recognized as a blood pressure cuff.

“Ah, ya know how babies are,” Rikki chuckled. “Demanding lil boogers with no Patience, so I was trying to make lunch when he decided he was hungry.”

The nurse–whose badge read _Lillian Kimball, RN_–glanced up at him, then back down at the task she was working on as she listened.

“I didn’t see Bobby behind me, so when I kicked the cabinet door shut, his hand musta gotten caught in it,” he continued, feeding her the lie Bret’d suggested to cover their tracks.

“Oh, ya poor lil man,” Lillian cooed as she took his blood pressure. “I’ll bet it’s at least bruised, then.”

Bobby couldn’t help a whimper, which turned into another full-on wail as she moved his right arm, which sent shock waves up from his hand.

_ “Oooh,_ it might actually be broken, if he’s reacting like that to me barely moving his arm,” she said with a wince. “Is otays, lil man–I didn’t mean to hurtcha.”

The peanut-sized bassist couldn’t help shooting her a dirty look as he jerked the limb back against his chest once she let go.

“Don’t mind that evil look,” Rikki chuckled. “He’s a lot like his mama when she doesn’t feel good.”

The nurse didn’t even question where his supposed mama was as she wrote down the readings she’d gotten on a clipboard. Once she was done with that, she said she was gonna find the attending so she could come have a look at his lil hand and decide if they really needed an X-ray. In the meantime, he was free to sit on the gurney with his supposed son, ’cuz it was often a Comfort to kids who didn’t understand what was going on.

Even though he understood her words full well, Bobby still pouted up at him, those big brown eyes full of tears. The drummer couldn’t resist settling on the gurney beside him, chuckling as he whined and tried to crawl into his lap without putting any pressure on his bad hand. Knowing that wasn’t gonna work very well, he gently picked him up and settled him between his legs to lean against him.

A soft sigh and a happy babble he’d have sworn sounded like _Thanks, man_ drifted up to his ears, making him smile. Rikki gently rubbed his back as he let him lean against his belly, both surprised and not by just how cuddly his friend really was. Then again, maybe his being so cuddly right now was simply ’cuz he was trapped in the body of a baby, and it was just some kinda instinct or something. He didn’t particularly care what his reason for acting like this was–he just wanted to get his hand treated so they could both get some rest.

“Knock knock, boys.”

Looking up from where he’d leaned down to kiss the peanut-sized bassist’s head, he saw a woman who appeared to be about thirty standing next to the rolling table.

“Mr. Ream and Junior, right?” she asked.

“I wouldn’t call him Junior,” the drummer chuckled, his friend stiffening against him. “He hates it when people do that.”

“Really, now?” the woman laughed. “Well, I’ll make sure not to do that.”

Rikki simply chuckled again and rubbed his back.

“My name’s Dr. Jessie Stanton,” she told them, reaching out to shake his hand. “So, what’s going on today?”

“A bit of a kitchen accident,” he started. “Demanding lil booger ran up behind me and I didn’t see him, so when I kicked a cabinet door shut while I was working on lunch, I think his hand got slammed in it.”

_ “Oooh,_ that couldn’t have felt too good,” Dr. Stanton said, wincing as she looked down at the lil boy curled up in his lap. “If you’ll lemme see, lil man, we’ll find out if it got broken when that big, bad cabinet door tried to eat it.”

Bobby was more than a bit wary, even though he thought it was more than a bit hilarious how she was treating him like the baby she thought he really was. It took him a few moments, but he finally held out his hand tentatively, acting as if Daddy’s prodding was what’d finally convinced him to let her see the injured appendage. He couldn’t help a pained shriek as she gently flattened his hand and spread his lil fingers, not noticing how she frowned at not seeing any bruising.

The quick exam made the attending decide to order an X-ray on the grounds that she suspected his lil hand had gotten slammed hard enough to break it. Considering how it’d really gotten fucked-up nearly two weeks ago, she wasn’t very far off the mark, but neither musician was gonna tell her that–not that the peanut-sized bassist _could_.

Luckily for them, the process of getting his lil hand X-rayed didn’t take very long at all, although it was certainly painful for him. Rikki managed to keep him quiet while the nurses were working, even though they swore they were able to tolerate babies and children screaming and crying. That was when he pled a headache from all his previous crying, which made them offer him some aspirin so he’d be able to drive them back home. Grateful for the offer, he wasn’t dumb enough to turn it down since clearly, he wasn’t gonna be getting enough sleep anytime soon.

“Well, the bones his middle finger and the back of his hand leading down to it’re definitely fractured,” Dr. Stanton said after looking over his developed X-rays.

“Please tell me there’s something ya can do for it,” the drummer responded.

“Not much beyond just casting it since it’s not a bad enough fracture to warrant surgery,” she answered, her back turned to them.

Bobby couldn’t help a sigh of relief since he didn’t really wanna go under the knife for _anything_.

“Beyond that, it’s basically just giving him something for the pain and letting it Heal on its own,” the doctor concluded.

“Any idea how long that’ll take?” Rikki asked. “I don’t wanna wind up accidentally overdosing him on even Tylenol ’cuz it’s hurting him so bad.”

“It’ll take a few weeksta Heal, but the pain should start fading in a week or two,” she told him. “I’ll write him a scrip for something a lil stronger than Children’s Tylenol, and that’ll cover the first week. After that, the regular stuff oughta work just fine.”

“Sounds like I plan then, I guess,” the drummer agreed, nodding.

It wasn’t long before she was getting to work on casting his lil hand, even starting to extend the cast down his middle finger. When Bobby wouldn’t spread his fingers for her, his supposed daddy sighed and told her it might be a better idea to just cast _all_ of his fingers. He claimed he was forever getting into things, and that he didn’t want him getting his other fingers caught in something ’cuz the cast got in his way and made him get stuck.

Nodding, Dr. Stanton made sure there was Space in between each digit so they could be moved slightly, but not enough to make the fractures in his middle finger worse. That’d allow them to be stretched a bit, not to mention allow them to breathe, despite being almost completely wrapped up in thick fabric that got hot and itchy with a quickness.

After his hand and wrist’d been casted, the peanut-sized bassist was forced to wait patiently as she wrote out his scrip and got his discharge paperwork ready. By that point, he was getting hungry since it was almost dinnertime and they’d both pretty much skipped lunch, which was making him cranky. When one added in how bad his hand was still killing him, it was no Wonder he was starting to show his ass a bit. One Dark look from the blonde shut him up pretty quickly, though, ’cuz he knew Rikki wouldn’t put up with it for long before he lost his temper. Even though he was physically a baby, that didn’t mean he could get away with everything since he’d proven to have his adult mind.

When they were finally able to leave the hospital, the drummer couldn’t have been more relieved as he walked back to his car. Sure, he needed to give his friend a quick diaper change in the back seat and make a pit stop to get his scrip filled, but it wouldn’t be much longer before they were home. Maybe then he could corral him in the living room with something to occupy him so he could make dinner–and without actually breaking his hand, or any other body parts. He certainly hoped so, and that he could get a hold of Bobby’s mother soon, ’cuz while he loved him like a brother, he was going insane.


	6. Five

Two more Days passed, and Rikki still couldn’t get in touch with the peanut-sized bassist’s family back in Pennsylvania. He was trying not to show it, but he was starting to worry that something’d happened to them, and nobody’d been able to reach the band ’cuz they were on tour at the Time. Considering everything else that was going on, that was the last thing his brunette friend needed to worry about, but keeping those suspicions to himself wasn’t easy.

Bobby was certainly a hyper and inquisitive lil booger, given that he was a grown man trapped in a baby’s body. He got into absolutely everything that the drummer didn’t have baby-proofed yet, but some of the things he got into was hilarious. Deanna lost half the makeup she hadn’t packed to take with her when he decided he was gonna play in it after waking from a nap earlier than the blonde and managed to get off the bed without getting hurt. It was more than a bit of a surprise to find him in the bathroom floor, covered in her foundation and just about anything else in powder form.

“It’s no Wonder your calling was in being a rock star,” Rikki sighed, unable to help a smirk as he plunked him down in the tub for a bath after taping a grocery bag over his cast.

“Eh?” The peanut-sized bassist cocked a head at him like a curious puppy, and the sight was too adorable not to laugh at.

“You’re so hyper and crazy, dude,” he chuckled, that smirk stretching into a grin. “If ya were this nuts the first Time around at this age, I shouldn’t be surprised thatcha grew up to be in a band.”

He was answered by a devious lil giggle as Bobby grinned and slapped at the Water that came up just high enough to submerge him to his waist.

“’Cuz as it stands, you’re a grown man in a baby’s body, and you’re still driving me insane,” the drummer laughed, shielding his face as he splashed him. “Hey, ya lil booger!”

The peanut-sized bassist squealed, spluttering slightly as he laughed when he splashed him back.

“God damn, but you’re making me wanna have one of my own now,” Rikki laughed.

He snorted as he looked up and rolled his eyes, Water dripping down his face from the minimal hair covering his head. Being a daddy wasn’t nearly as easy as he’d made it look during what lil Time he got to spend with Zach after said son was born. Just thinking about the infant in question made him sigh heavily and slap at the Water again, but this Time, it was obvious he wasn’t being playful.

The drummer gently rubbed his back as he got him to look up at him, hating every Time he saw tears form in those gorgeous Chocolate eyes. He knew that physically being a baby again was harder on Bobby than he let on, and not just ’cuz he couldn’t be nearly as Independent. It wasn’t just his mother and older siblings that he was missing right now–he missed his wife and actual infant son just as much. Being unable to go home ’cuz of what’d happened to him’d to be killing him inside right now, and was no doubt part of the reason he was so cuddly.

Rikki gently thumbed away the tears he didn’t even notice start falling down his face, leaning over the side of the tub to hug him. He couldn’t help a sob as he grabbed his shirt with his good hand, clinging tightly as the enormity of his situation hit him for the hundredth Time. Stuck in the body of a baby, he couldn’t really do anything he wanted or needed to, and he couldn’t go back home–hell, he couldn’t even get his rocks off like this since that system just wasn’t online yet.

_ “Shhhh,_ lil buddy,” he whispered, rubbing his back.

Bobby took a bit to Calm down so he could pull away slightly.

“I know it’s hard right now–I haven’t got it very easy, either since this has turned my Life upside-down, too,” the drummer told him.

He couldn’t do anything but nod, knowing that was definitely true.

“But I don’t care how hard it gets for both of us–I’m not throwing ya to the Wolves,” Rikki promised with a smile. “Unless ya go back home with your mom, I’d rather take care of ya than see something bad happen to ya.”

The peanut-sized bassist couldn’t help Returning the smile before letting out a sad sigh.

“I know, buddy–I’m still trying to get in touch with them,” he said with a sigh of his own. “Hopefully, that happens soon, if only so I can let them know that you’re all right.”

“Hon, who’re ya talking to?”

Looking back over his shoulder, the drummer saw his girlfriend in the bathroom doorway. “You’re not gonna believe me when I tell ya.”

“Really, now–and why’s half my makeup dumped all over the floor?” Deanna asked, looking irritated at the Thought of having to replace so much.

“Just go wait in the bedroom, and I’ll be out in a couple minutes,” Rikki told her, his body blocking her view of the baby in the tub.

“Fine, whatever,” she huffed as she turned on her heel.

Rolling his eyes as he pulled the plug outta the drain and plucked Bobby from the tub, he Began to wonder if she really _was_ the right woman for him. She was such a spoiled diva more often than she wasn’t that she acted like _she_ was the one who’d made it big already, not the other way around. But the Truth of the matter was that she was just an aspiring vocalist basically riding the coattails of his own fame and fortune.

Once he’d gotten the peanut-sized bassist dried off and dressed, he snuggled him against his chest as he headed outta the bathroom. The poor lil guy was shivering against him, no doubt from the Change in the temperature of the Water compared to the Air. Being so much smaller, it was no doubt harder to stay warm, which was no doubt another reason for his cuddly Nature.

Deanna’s eyes widened in shock as she watched her boyfriend come outta the bathroom with a baby snuggled against his chest. She almost immediately thought the worst–that, if this child wasn’t borne of some previous relationship, he’d cheated on her and was now dealing with the aftermath of such a sordid affair. If his right side had been facing her, she’d have seen the tattoo still decorating the lil guy’s bicep and shoulder, and she’d have known better. Being unable to see it, though, she could only assume, even though he didn’t look anything like the drummer from what she could tell.

“Don’t say a word, Deanna–just hear me out,” Rikki said as he caught her look.

The peanut-sized bassist whimpered softly and hid his face, his thumb headed straight for his mouth.

“When I said ya weren’t gonna believe me when I told ya who this is, I meant it,” he continued after giving her a moment to either do as told, or try to argue.

“Well, who the hell is it?” the young woman demanded. “And why the fuck’re you watching them?”

“Insane and unbelievable as it sounds, you’re looking at Bobby,” the drummer answered.

His girlfriend’s jaw dropped as Bobby peeked out at her before hiding his face again.

“We dunno what happened to him besides the obvious,” Rikki explained. “We went to bed on July seventh, and he was normal–if a bit stoned–only to wake up to find him like this the next Morn.”

“What the fuck?” Deanna asked, now even more shocked.

“Your guess is as good as mine,” he told her, shrugging. “We just knew we’d to cancel the tour, ’cuz c’mon–what band do _you_ know of that can keep touring when one of their members is a diaper-shitting rugrat?”

The peanut-sized bassist couldn’t help a giggle, even though he knew that’s what he was right now.

“Ya shouldn’t be cussing like that in front of him,” she scolded him, now frowning.

“Oh, that’s where it gets even weirder,” the drummer chuckled. “His mouth’d still be just as filthy, if he could actually talk.”

The young woman snorted at the ridiculousness of that Thought, only to be surprised when the baby her boyfriend held looked up with a scowl and flipped her off.

“He’s only a baby physically,” Rikki laughed. “He’s still the same–if a bit more juvenile than normal–up top.”

Bobby squirmed against his chest and reached for the bed, a clear sign that he wanted to be put down on it. Grabbing a drumstick that’d been left on it, he mimicked writing across the covers as well as he could for having to hold it in his left hand, then looked back up at the blonde. That was his way of telling him to get those _Scrabble_ tiles they’d been using before, and since his friend knew that, he nodded before disappearing into the closet. Moments later, he Returned with the board game in hand, his girlfriend shooting him a weird look as he took said tiles out.

Deanna nearly freaked when he dumped them on the bed, then started turning them face-up where the letters could be seen. When she tried to get them outta the baby’s reach, he squealed at her and smacked her hand with the drumstick like a mother’d smack her child’s hand with a Wooden spoon for trying to reach into an unfinished dish for a meal.

Laughing as he watched, Rikki told her to just sit back and watch what he did, ’cuz he wasn’t gonna try to eat the tiles or anything. The young woman simply cradled her hand as she acquiesced, rubbing the back of it as the peanut-sized bassist laid the drumstick down. Satisfied that she wasn’t gonna try anything funny again, he started rearranging the tiles, his work a lil clumsy due to both his physical state and not being left-handed.

_ “Do that again, and I’ll smack ya in the face with that drumstick?”_ she read, turning shocked eyes up at her boyfriend.

“Told ya he was still more or less the same up top,” the drummer snickered.

Bobby rolled his eyes and started rearranging the tiles again before sitting back to let them read his message.

_ “Just ’cuz I shit in a diaper instead of the toilet for now doesn’t mean I’m stupid,”_ Deanna read. “Well, I never said ya were–you’re just immature.”

The peanut-sized bassist squealed at her again as he shook his casted hand at her.

“Deanna, don’t antagonize him,” Rikki admonished her. “He’s going through enough without the typical War you’ve going on with the rest of the band.”

“All right, all right,” she huffed. “I still wanna know why _you’re_ the one watching him.”

“’Cuz, while he’ll deal with being left with Bret if he hasta, Bobby usually won’t lemme outta sight when others’re around,” he answered. “Ya know how kids usually have their favorite parent? Well, I’d be his favorite parent, were I actually his dad.”

“Have ya even tried getting in touch with his parents?” his girlfriend asked.

“Been trying to since we got home two Days ago–nobody’s answered, or Returned my calls,” the drummer told her, sighing when Bobby gasped. “Yeah, I haven’t been telling ya that so ya wouldn’t start worrying, just in case it was nothing.”

He couldn’t help a terrified whimper at the Thought that something’d happened to his dearly beloved mama, or even his older siblings.

“Hey, hey, hey–Calm down, buddy,” Rikki said, pulling him into his lap. “Could just be that they think _you’ve_ gone missing, so they’ve been out searching for ya.”

The peanut-sized bassist reached back to the _Scrabble_ tiles, rearranging them again to form a question.

“I Wish I knew why they hadn’t thought to call me, Bret, or CC yet,” he sighed.

Bobby couldn’t help another whimper, his Fear that something’d happened to even his wife and son finally getting Deanna’s heart to melt a lil bit. It was obvious that he wasn’t liking being a baby right now, that it was harder on him than she’d have thought it’d be. He wasn’t just a carefree brat being spoiled and pampered left and right by her boyfriend–he was still a grown man with all the same worries and Fears that he’d normally have.

The group was distracted by the doorbell ringing downstairs, and Rikki promised he’d be back in a couple minutes. His girlfriend agreed to make sure the brunette didn’t fall of the bed and crack his head, at least, so it was a start at all of them being able to get along. Sighing as he turned for the bedroom door, he wondered if it was Bret bringing over more supplies for him to minimize their chances of being recognized out in public. Considering the shorter blonde’d brought over that fake Birth certificate for them to use, he wouldn’t doubt such a thing being a possibility right now. He was gung-ho about helping however he could, even if it was with stupid-simple shit like buying baby supplies.

Rikki was surprised when he opened his door to see not the frontman, but the peanut-sized bassist’s family. And it wasn’t just his mother and siblings, either–the charge was led by his wife, Mishy, who held their own son against her breast. It was certainly unexpected, but he supposed it was a good enough explanation to answer the question he’d just been asked upstairs. Without saying a word, he just waved the group into his living room, both glad for and dreading the fact that they were here since they needed an explanation–and badly.


	7. Six

“Rikki, where’s Bobby? Bret said ya knew when we stopped by his place.”

Turning from closing and locking his front door, the drummer saw that Mishy was still standing while the others were already seated. She still held baby Zach against her breast, the lil guy snoozing happily as he snuggled with his mama during his nap. It was such a precious sight and kinda reminded him of how the peanut-sized bassist was forever snuggling against him the same way, especially when he was ready for a nap or to go to bed for the Night.

“Just sit down, Mishy,” he told her. “And ya might wanna put Zach in his carrier or something–I don’t wantcha dropping him.”

“Why would I drop my own son?” Mishy asked, brushing that bright red hair he couldn’t stand over her shoulder. “I’d like to think I’ma better mother than that.”

“I wasn’t trying to imply that you’re a shitty mother,” the drummer defended himself. “I just know you’re gonna be pretty shocked, and you’d be likely to drop him as much as even Lynda would.”

“Michelle, just put the baby in his carrier,” said middle-aged woman told her. “We’re never gonna find out what happened to his father–_my_ son–if Rikki’s gonna insist on holding his Silence till ya do.”

Letting out a huff, the ginger moved to lay the infant back in his carrier, making sure he wasn’t gonna wake before taking a seat.

“I dunno how much Bret told ya–” Rikki started, only to be gently cut off.

“Not a whole helluva lot, other than while CC really _does_ need help, that’s not the real reason why ya cut your tour shut.” That was stated by Bobby’s older brother, Butch–who really was a ginger by Nature.

“All right, saves me some Time, then,” he said, nodding as he rewound the past few Days in his head.

The small group waited as patiently as they possibly could.

“We went to bed after our show in Mears, Michigan on July seventh like it was any other Night,” the drummer started. “Bobby was a bit stoned from the painkillers I doled out sparingly since he’d broken his hand not even a week before then.”

“What?” Mishy asked, her eyes widening. “How the hell’d he break his hand?”

“Slammed it in a car door,” Rikki answered. “When it swelled up to twice its normal size and he couldn’t move it, Howie and I forced him to go to the ER and have it checked out.”

“All right, so he broke his hand and got it treated,” his brother said, making sure he was keeping up so far. “That apparently didn’t stop ya from trying to tour.”

“Ya know how your brother is–stubborn to the very marrow of his bones,” he chuckled. “He didn’t care how bad it hurt–he wanted to keep going till his damn hand fell off, if that’s what happened.”

“So, what _really_ made ya kill the tour early?” This question was posed by his older sister, Patty.

“Let’s just say we woke up to something none of us were expecting, and–well, ya won’t believe me till I show ya,” the drummer answered.

The group looked confused, but didn’t have Time to question him as they heard Deanna yell from upstairs that she needed some help. Instantly reacting like any parent would, he told them he’d be right back and took off up the stairs two at a Time. She prolly needed help changing the peanut-sized bassist’s diaper ’cuz he either wouldn’t let her touch him at all, or he wouldn’t hold still to get the fresh diaper on him.

In the master bedroom, Rikki wasn’t surprised to find Bobby kicking at his girlfriend’s hands as she tried to get his obviously dirty diaper off him. Somehow, he wasn’t surprised in the least that she hadn’t gotten any further than just getting his pint-sized jeans off him. After all, he’d been pretty embarrassed about having to let him and Bret change him while they were still on the bus.

Said bassist reached up to him once he caught sight of him, letting out a whine that clearly said he wanted _him_ to change him. He’d really made a mess of his diaper this Time, so he traded places with Deanna and told her to grab him some fresh clothes outta the top drawer of his dresser. The first thing he’d done upon actually unpacking was clear out that one drawer and consolidate a bit so he wouldn’t have to buy another dresser, if he didn’t have to. Setting her to grabbing stuff outta it for him’d give her a way to feel helpful, not to mention keep her back turned so he could change his friend.

“Oh, boy–ya really did a number on this one, didn’tcha?” he chuckled.

Bobby whined and covered his face with his hands, resisting the urge to squirm as his rump and crotch started itching.

“Well, hold still, dude–I know it’s itchy, but I can’t getcha cleaned up, if you’re moving around,” the drummer told him.

His slight squirming–or at least, twitching like he was gonna squirm–ceased almost immediately.

“Now that’s more like it,” Rikki said with another chuckle as he started the cleanup process.

The peanut-sized bassist couldn’t help a sigh of relief as he cleaned him up, the itching starting to cease with every stroke of a baby wipe across him.

“Let’s try not to do that again, shall we?” he said, wrapping the used wipes up in the dirty diaper so he could throw it away.

Bobby nodded, having not meant to do that this Time.

“Good, ’cuz I don’t think ya wanna face your family with a ’sploding diaper like that,” the drummer told him, grinning.

His lil eyes lit up as he looked toward the bedroom door, clearly asking if he was just pulling his leg as he looked back to him.

“I’m not pulling your leg, Bobby,” Rikki chuckled. “Trust me, I was surprised to open the door and see Mishy leading the charge, your mom and siblings in tow.”

The peanut-sized bassist couldn’t help but squeal happily, and he was sure they prolly heard it downstairs.

After getting his fresh diaper on him and getting him dressed in clean clothes, he gently picked him up so he could snuggle him against his chest. He knew that as soon as he got him downstairs, Bobby was most likely to wanna snuggle with his mama, if only ’cuz he’d always been pretty close with Lynda as a kid. Besides, while he might have more warmth to offer him since guys were notoriously warmer, she’d more softness to offer since he obviously didn’t have breasts.

The drummer rubbed his back as he carried him downstairs, Deanna trailing behind them so she could head to the kitchen. He knew his friend was excited, but also nervous–he’d every right to be since the only way he’d to Communicate were the _Scrabble_ tiles that were bagged up and in his pocket for him to use.

Four loud gasps rang out as he walked into the living room, none of them knowing why he’d be holding a baby that looked about twice Zach’s size. The loudest gasp was Lynda’s, and it was repeated as her eyes widened in shock and she rose from her seat on the couch. If anyone was gonna recognize the peanut-sized bassist right now, it’d no doubt be her, if only ’cuz of her memories of what he looked like when he really _was_ this age. Obviously, Mishy wouldn’t have known her husband back then, and he doubted his siblings really remembered what he looked like when he was a Year old.

“B-Bobby?” the middle-aged woman asked in shock as she reached up to caress his chubby lil cheek.

_ “Ma-ma!”_ Bobby babbled as he reached for her, one of the few things he could actually say clearly.

“Oh, my God,” his wife and sister breathed in unison.

“Holy shit–it _is_ Bobby!” Butch said on a gasp as he caught sight of his right arm.

“How can ya be sure, Butch?” Patty asked.

The ginger man didn’t say a word as he gently pulled his right arm out where they could see it, mindful of the cast at the End of the appendage.

“Oh, my God–that’s the tattoo he got for me!” Mishy cried softly.

“And the only way us guys figured out who he was the Morn we woke up to find him like this,” Rikki told them. “I didn’t even notice it at first, I was so shocked to find a nekkid baby in the bunk room floor when he first alerted us to his presence with a scream.”

“I’m guessing he fell outta his bunk and conked his lil noggin?” Lynda asked, gently caressing the knot still near his hairline on the right side of his forehead.

The peanut-sized bassist winced at the gentle touch, but still nodded.

“Wait, did he just answer Mom’s question?” his brother asked.

“See, that’s the _really_ weird part,” the drummer responded. “He’s only a baby physically. In terms of what he’s got going on up top, he’s still just as normal–if a bit more juvenile–as he ever was.”

None of his family seemed to believe him, which made Bobby reach for the coffee table and wiggle in his mother’s arms. Apparently getting his message, she gently sat him down, not surprised in the least when he stuck his arms out and toddled over to the piece of furniture in question. Looking up at his friend expectantly, he let out a cry and managed to cross his arms, the look on his face screaming that he was clearly waiting on something.

Chuckling, Rikki pulled the lil drawstring baggie outta his pocket and opened it, moving to dump its contents on the coffee table. Lynda’d the same first Thought as Deanna–that he was gonna try to eat the lil Wooden tiles and wind up choking on one. Said young woman gently grabbed her arm to stop her, warning her not to in case there was a drumstick laying around as she showed off her hand.

Once the _Scrabble_ tiles’d been dumped out and flipped so they were face-up, the peanut-sized bassist balanced himself by resting his casted hand on the edge of the coffee table. Just like they always were, his movements were a bit slow and clumsy, but that was mostly from being forced to use his left hand for this. After a few moments, he’d put together a full sentence that was actually legible and took a step to the side so they could see to read. Four different pairs of eyes locked on to the arrangement of Wooden tiles, and four surprised gasps rang out afterward.

_ “I might not be able to actually say much right now, but that doesn’t mean I’m brain-dead,”_ Patty read in surprise.

Her lil brother squealed and gently slapped the coffee table in lieu of clapping so he wouldn’t hurt his broken hand worse.

“I’m pretty sure that–since he’s still an adult mentally–he knows better than to try to eat the tiles,” Rikki chuckled. “But this was CC’s stroke of genius when he tried to tell us what he wanted for breakfast the Morn we woke up to find him like this.”

“Really?” Lynda asked, just as surprised as her daughter.

“Hey, just ’cuz he’s a lil out there doesn’t mean C’s a dumbass,” the drummer laughed. “Bret and I were certainly too short-circuited to think of that that Morn.”

Bobby started rearranging the tiles again till he’d spelled out what he wanted to say this Time.

_ “It works, though, since I prolly couldn’t write with a crayon, if I tried,”_ Butch read. “Yeah, that’s prolly true, lil brother–not with your writing hand in a cast, no matter how old ya are physically.”

“Which’s why I haven’t even bothered buying him crayons and a coloring book,” his friend laughed. “He never really liked that shit when he was normal, so I didn’t figure he would now. And even if he _did,_ the chances of him getting frustrated and pitching a fit from having to do it left-handed’re pretty high, for obvious reasons.”

“So, you’ve no idea how this happened?” Mishy asked, still sounding shocked.

“None at all,” Rikki answered, shaking his head. “I gave him one of his painkillers the Night of that Michigan show and stayed up till I was sure he was knocked out and wouldn’t wake up needing anything.”

“Then woke up to find a baby with his tattoo for his wife in your bunk room the next Morn,” the peanut-sized bassist’s mother mused.

Said peanut-sized bassist started rearranging those tiles before standing back again.

_ “’Cuz I fell outta my bunk since even I didn’t realize what’d happened to me, and I screamed when I hit my head on the floor,”_ his sister read.

“Well, that sounds like something just about anyone’d do,” his brother laughed.

Naturally, they were all curious as to what they were gonna do with Bobby in his current circumstances. He obviously couldn’t live on his own, and nobody wanted to put too much pressure on Mishy by making her care for not only him, but their own son, too. The lil guy looked back and forth between his wife, his mother, and the drummer, his face screwed up like he wanted to cry. He was obviously having a hard Time choosing between them, which only added to the stress he was currently under.

Rikki knelt down like he was about to propose to his girlfriend, pulling the lil guy against him in a gentle hug. Watching him latch on to the blonde almost for dear Life made them realize that–even if it was in an unorthodox way–they were bonding more than they’d ever done before. Maybe it was best to let him continue staying with his friend, who seemed to be willing to do anything he could for him.

Lynda was the one to finally speak up and say so, admitting that while she wanted to take her baby boy home with her, she just wanted the best for him. She also admitted that–as his mother–she’d be too tempted to treat him like the baby he was only physically. She’d forget that he was still a grown man up top, and that’d no doubt start causing friction when she tried to baby him too much. After all, she’d seen him like this when he was actually a Year old, and those memories’d come flooding back, the more she was around him.

“I hate to say it, but I think even I’d be the same way,” Mishy admitted on a sigh. “Seeing him like this–it just brings out the mommy in me even more.”

“Same here,” Patty agreed with a nod.

“Brings out my inner daddy, too,” his brother chimed in.

“And I don’t blame ya guys for feeling that way,” Rikki told them. “Hell, I just told him when I was giving him a bath a lil while ago that taking care of him like this was kinda making me wanna have a kid of my own.”

“Just don’t do anything rash, young man,” Lynda giggled as his girlfriend squawked from the kitchen.

“I’m not,” he swore with a laugh of his own. “Deanna and I both’d have to be on the same page with that–and I doubt we are, so there’s no sense in doing anything of the sort.”

“At least you’re being intelligent about it,” Butch chuckled. “Parenting isn’t easy, after all.”

“Trust me, I’ve figured that out,” the drummer said, rubbing Bobby’s back. “He’s still the same ol’ Bobby up top, which makes things a lot easier when he can get to these _Scrabble_ tiles, but he’s still driving me kinda nuts.”

“I’ll bet, if he’s anything like when he really _was_ this age,” the peanut-sized bassist’s mother laughed. “He used to have me at sixes and sevens, as they said in Victorian-era Britain.”

“Course, you’d me and Butch doing that to ya, too,” Patty giggled.

“Oh, Bobby was by far the worst of ya,” she said. “He wouldn’t stay outta anything, whether it was what lil makeup I actually had or the toilet bowl.”

Everybody in the living room cracked up, lil Bobby blushing at the Thought of how much trouble he used to get into at an age he didn’t even remember. He didn’t think his mama’d lie about such things, but like any kid, that didn’t mean he wanted her telling the World how rambunctious he used to be in such an embarrassing way.

It was soon decided that he was best off staying with Rikki till they figured out how to Return him to normal, if such a thing was even possible. Clearly, they’d a bond that no other set of band members could say they had, and he was obviously relatively happy with him. Mishy decided to stay for as long as she could, if only so he still got to spend Time with Zach, despite his current physical state.

The peanut-sized bassist’s eyes lit up at the Thought of still getting to see his son, even if it was only for a few Days. In fact, he toddled over to where his carrier was and plopped down in the floor, moving onto his knees so he could gently caress his lil head. Zach was already starting to wake up from his nap, so he squirmed and cooed from his carrier, which brought a delighted smile to his daddy’s face. No one in the room could deny what a precious sight it was, and what a bad idea it’d be to split them up too soon. But they’d have to be split up again eventually, and they all knew that since his wife couldn’t stay in Los Angeles with him forever.

Bobby was content to just sit in the floor, his son between his chubby lil legs and leaning back on him, while the drummer was working on dinner. He’d to be careful so he wouldn’t hurt him with his cast, but he enjoyed getting to cuddle his baby boy however he could. The baby in question seemed to enjoy it just as much, cooing and reaching up to pat at his cheek as if he still recognized his daddy, despite his sudden physical Change. It’d be that much harder to split them up when the Time came, but they’d cross they Bridge when they came to it in a too-short Time.


	8. Seven

Rikki straightened from putting his friend to bed next to his infant son, both boys sleeping soundly as they suckled their pacis. He, Mishy, and Deanna’d worked together to get them fed and worn out enough to sleep once the peanut-sized bassist’s mother and siblings headed back to their nearby hotel. It’d taken a bit more to knock out said bassist, although the scrip version of the Children’s Tylenol he gave him right before bed helped with that.

Now that they were abed and not likely to wake till Morn, it was Time for the adults to get some quiet Time of their own. Bobby and Zach were gonna be sleeping with the former’s wife that Night, considering that she often let their son sleep with her and her husband hadn’t wanted to let go of his boy for shit ever since they were reunited earlier. That meant the drummer’d be able to do whatever he wanted–even if that meant things took a sexual turn–since he wouldn’t have to worry about scarring his friend for Life. And he damn well Intended to at least try for a dirty Night with his girlfriend–he’d been without her for too long even _before_ all this started, after all.

However, Deanna seemed to have other ideas in mind, judging by how she headed up to bed only an hour after they’d gotten the boys to bed. There was no telling if that was punishment for what he’d said about kinda wanting a baby of his own that afternoon, or if it was something else. All he knew was that he was gonna be up late now, for sure–and it wouldn’t be ’cuz he actually wanted to be at all.

Mishy bit her lip as she watched the drummer drop his head onto the back of the couch he sat on with a frustrated groan. She knew his pain all too well–she’d been expecting Bobby to come home needy as hell and put her through the wringer, not as a baby. Finding out he was just that’d been both shocking and disappointing for her as she realized the implications of him being stuck like that. He’d need almost constant care like Zach did, and he certainly wouldn’t be able to perform–not that it’d be right with him stuck as an infant, even if he _could_.

“I know the feeling, Rikki,” she finally sighed, curled up on the love seat across from him.

“Tell me about it,” Rikki groaned. “God, what I wouldn’t give to go up there and turn our song _Good Love_ into a Reality right now.”

“By rolling her over and rocking her till the Morn’s Light?” the young woman laughed.

“Let’s just say I don’t even remember the last Time I jerked off, let alone got laid,” he chuckled. “I’ve usually been too exhausted by the Time I got Bobby to bed to care–not that I really _could_ jerk off with him wanting to sleep with me.”

“That’s what the shower’s for,” Mishy snickered. “Howddaya think I manage when Zach’s wanting to sleep in our bed with me?”

“I’ve thought about that, but again–too exhausted,” the drummer said.

She couldn’t help what she felt when he shot her a devious grin, but she knew she couldn’t act on it–not without hurting at least one other party, that is.

“And I’d been hoping to get just that outta Deanna tonight,” Rikki told her, sighing. “Now, I’m kinda starting to wonder if she’s really just that tired since she just got home today, or if it’s punishment for what I said about kinda wanting a kid of my own earlier.”

“Whyddaya think she’d punish ya for that by denying sex?” the young woman asked, latching on to whatever topic came up like a Lifeline of distraction.

“’Cuz she’s never really acted like she wanted kids–then again, we’ve been dating for almost two Years, and you’d think that kinda thing woulda come up by now,” he answered.

“So, maybe she’s just waiting till after ya get married, assuming such a thing even happens,” Mishy suggested.

“Could be, but Deanna’s a vindictive streak a mile wide when she wantsta,” the drummer admitted.

She couldn’t help a wince at the Thought, imagining it to be herself doing that to Bobby, just ’cuz he expressed a desire to have a child when she didn’t want one. The mental image that she got from that was of her husband straying and finding someone else who _would_ give him what he wanted, both by sleeping with him _and_ giving him that child. Her face twisted in a grimace, knowing that if she wasn’t careful, the other young woman’d have to worry about Rikki doing that eventually.

The drummer in question caught that grimace when he looked up, a brow cocking as he asked her what was on her mind. She bit her lip as she debated answering him, then sighed as she told him about the mental image she’d just gotten from his words. It was a somewhat logical Fear when one was in a fairly steady relationship, and even he couldn’t deny that much. Mishy wasn’t surprised when he let out a sigh of his own and admitted that he was seriously tempted, ’cuz things hadn’t been going well with his girlfriend of late. Just about every phone call from the road Ended in a fight, and he was starting to wonder if she was already cheating on him, anywhore.

A soft Sound from the staircase caught their attention, and they both turned to see Bobby sleepily rubbing his eyes, his teddy bear clutched in his fist. Mishy couldn’t help a gasp, wondering just how on Earth he’d gotten outta bed, let alone down the stairs, without hurting himself. Even the drummer was a bit surprised, considering he’d only gotten into Deanna’s makeup when he got up by himself earlier.

The peanut-sized bassist suckled his paci as he toddled into the living room, only setting his teddy bear on the coffee table to start rearranging _Scrabble_ tiles. As it turned out, Zach’d woken up whimpering, but there was nothing he could do to help his own son besides take his chances with trying to get downstairs unscathed. Rikki gently picked him and his toy up so he could take him back upstairs, the young woman already going ahead of them to check on the other baby. None of them knew if he’d woken up wet, or if it was something else that’d caused him to wake so soon after being laid down.

“Just a heads-up, dude, but I think Mishy’s gonna try coming on to me,” he murmured as he rubbed his back.

Bobby reached back down toward the coffee table.

“Well, gimme a sec,” the drummer said, readjusting him so he could sit on his knee once he’d squatted down for him.

_ “Let her, if that’s what she wants_–_not like I can do anything to help her like that right now,”_ he spelled out with the Wooden tiles.

“Are ya sure, dude?” Rikki asked, surprised by how Calm he was being about that suspicion.

The peanut-sized bassist nodded as he rubbed his eyes again.

“I mean, she’s your wife and all,” he said, sounding uncertain.

Bobby started rearranging the tiles again, having to pause to let out a big yawn.

_ “Yeah, and? Can’t help her, myself and I know you’re having problems with Deanna,”_ the drummer read once he was done. “And, I feel like it’d be bad enough if I cheated on my own girl–but with one of my best friends’ wives?”

_ “Better than getting your boner jumped by a horny woman and hiding it from me, too,”_ he spelled out.

“I’m not too sure about that, dude,” Rikki sighed.

The peanut-sized bassist simply shrugged, then turned so he could grab his teddy bear and snuggle it again.

Sensing that their short conversation about it was over, he rose with him cuddled against his chest so he really could take him back upstairs this Time. As he thought about it on the way up to said guest room, though, he couldn’t help but think that Bobby’d a point. Things with his girlfriend weren’t going so well–almost to the point that he’d say they’d prolly split soon, anywhore. Mishy was clearly needy, even if she wouldn’t admit it aloud, and it was only a matter of Time before she cheated, too.

Once he’d settled his friend back in bed next to his son, who’d gotten the diaper change he needed and fallen back to sleep, the drummer straightened again with a thoughtful look on his face. Part of him was glad that all three sentences were still intact on the coffee table downstairs–at least he wouldn’t have to work very hard to convince the young woman of what her husband had said.

Rikki beckoned her to c’mon back downstairs with him, the boys both now asleep again as they snuggled with each other. She seemed a bit reluctant to leave her baby, but knew she needed some Time to wind down as much as he did. Leading her back into the living room, he wondered what she’d say once she caught sight of the sentences still laying there in plain sight. It didn’t take long for the drummer to find out, ’cuz she spotted them almost as soon as she walked in the door. In fact, her ass didn’t even have Time to hit the love seat again before that happened and she started reading.

“What on Earth’s this about?” Mishy asked after she’d read them.

“Don’t think I didn’t see the look in your eyes right before he came down,” he chuckled. “I know a horny, tempted woman when I see one.”

The young woman’s face turned Beet-red at getting called out.

“All I told him was that I thoughtcha might try something, just so he’d know _I didn’t_ Intend to,” Rikki explained. “Trust me, I was just as surprised by that first sentence once he moved his hand so I could read it.”

“Bobby’s never been this kinda understanding before, though,” she mused. “He’s always been more of a jealous ass who didn’t want any other guy so much as looking at me.”

“Trust me, I know that all too well,” the drummer chuckled. “But think about what kinda state he’s stuck in, too.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” Mishy agreed reluctantly. “He’s definitely got a point about there being nothing he can do to satisfy me right now.”

“And I think he gets that, even if we slept together, it’d just be in a primal sense,” he told her. “’Cuz no offense, but I don’t see us working out as a couple, so there’s no way I’d try to steal ya from him like that.”

The young woman couldn’t help a giggle at the Thought. “None taken, ’cuz you’re not my type for an actual relationship, either.”

“I’m still not making any moves, though,” Rikki admitted. “Being honest here, I still think he might try to kill me for it later.”

She couldn’t help laughing at the Thought of her husband Changing his mind later, once he was back to normal and could kick his ass. Then again, considering that he’d whacked Deanna’s hand with a drumstick that afternoon, maybe he’d go after his friend like that, if he Changed his mind while trapped in the body of a baby.

Even the drummer wasn’t immune to a bout of laughter once she managed to tell him what she’d been thinking. The mental image of getting chased through his house by a pissed-off baby who was really a grown, territorial man wielding a drumstick to beat him with was downright hilarious. Still, it didn’t do a damn thing to truly Calm his raging hormones any more than he thought it’d done for the ginger sitting on his love seat. It’d been too long since either of them’d gotten any action for anything besides getting just that to truly sate them.

Therefore, he wasn’t too surprised when Mishy bit her lip and finally gave in to her urges with a frustrated groan. Feeling her weight settle into his lap wasn’t a surprise any more than feeling her lips on his moments later, and he couldn’t help a groan of his own. Even as his hands drifted up to gently squeeze her ass, Rikki decided that he was gonna see where this wound up leading him to, and he’d deal with the repercussions in the Morn.


	9. Eight

The next month passed in an unbelievable amount of Peace, considering what all’d happened since the Morn Bobby woke up as a diaper-shitting rugrat. Even his wife deciding to quit her job back home in Florida and essentially move back to California couldn’t really Destroy that Peace. If anything, it made things even more peaceful, considering he wasn’t separated from his baby boy, even if it was a bit harder to really spend Time with him.

He wasn’t the least bit surprised when Mishy finally admitted to starting a fling with his drummer about a week after they’d actually done it. Knowing there wasn’t anything he could do for her in a sexual sense, all he could do in response to her admission was shrug where he sat in the high chair he shared with their son. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known such a thing was likely to happen–he’d been warned when Rikki told him after his family’d shown up. Besides, if he were honest with at least himself, he’d felt the Love they’d once shared Waning–mostly due to his Time away from home and his drinking, both at home and on the road.

Said wife seemed a bit surprised that he was being so nonchalant about it, but since he currently didn’t have access to the _Scrabble_ tiles, she didn’t have a clue what was going on in his head. Maybe he wasn’t bothered by her admission simply ’cuz he’d already known, as evidenced by the sentences the drummer’d left intact on his coffee table. Then again, maybe there was some other reason Bobby was being so nonchalant about her basically telling him that she’d cheated on him–and with one of his best friends, at that.

None of the group got the chance to find out, though, ’cuz it wasn’t long after that that the peanut-sized bassist woke up sick. It wasn’t anything like nausea and vomiting, which coulda hinted at a rare Summer case of the flu, but rather heavy, raspy breathing and coughing. If he’d caught anything, it was likely one of those dreaded Summer colds, and during his visit to the ER about his hand.

“C’mon, buddy–I know ya don’t wanna go, butcha gotta,” Rikki crooned as he got his friend dressed.

_ “Ahhhh,”_ he whined, cutting himself off with a barking cough.

“If ya don’t go see a doctor, you’re prolly gonna wind up feeling even worse,” the drummer told him, not daring to say that he might End up with pneumonia.

_ “Hmph,”_ Bobby grunted, crossing his arms once he’d gotten a T-shirt on him.

“Well, do ya wanna wind up in the hospital for longer than it takes to get a cast ’cuz we let this get worse?” he asked. “And what about possibly giving whatever you’ve got to baby Zach?”

The peanut-sized bassist’s eyes widened and he shook his head at the Thought of causing his son to get sick.

“All right, then,” Rikki said. “Best we getcha checked out and warn the doctor ya see that we’ve another, younger baby in the house, too.”

He couldn’t do anything but groan, even as he let him pick him up off the changing table.

The drummer carried him down to his car, both surprised and not to see Mishy getting Zach’s carrier buckled into the back seat next to the car seat already sitting there. Naturally, Bobby was worried about his baby and perked up a lil more, reaching over toward the carrier once it was snapped into place. Surprisingly, his arms were just long enough that he was able to snag the smaller infant’s hand, a small smile crossing his face as they held hands.

At the nearest pediatrician’s office, they got the pair of babies outta the car with hardly any fussing on either of their parts. It was pretty obvious that neither one felt good, although Zach seemed not to feel quite as bad as his daddy was. Even though they didn’t feel good, at least they weren’t feeling bad enough to pitch fits as they got them checked in, even though it woulda been understandable.

“Bobby Ream?”

Said peanut-sized bassist grunted, which just made him let out another barking cough as they looked up to see a nurse waiting for them. Nodding, Rikki rose from the seat he’d claimed in the waiting room with him snuggled against his chest. The ginger rose with Zach’s carrier in her hand, the poor lil guy letting out a cough of his own as the gentle movement loosened something in his lil chest. It seemed they might have to add him to his daddy’s appointment at the last minute, ’cuz that cough sounded worse than any he’d been letting out so far.

_ “Awww,_ poor lil guys,” the nurse cooed as the drummer set Bobby down on the exam table. “How old’re they again?”

“This one’s eight months old,” Mishy answered, gently setting the carrier in the floor.

“And his brother’s twenty-six months,” Rikki told her.

“Wow, they were pretty close together,” she giggled. “I guess I’m just surprised since they look like each other, but neither one of ya two.”

“Well, we adopted,” the drummer chuckled. “We were originally just gonna adopt Bobby, but once we found out that he and Zach were full-blooded brothers, we couldn’t bear to split them up.”

“Even though they’re so young that they likely wouldn’t remember each other later,” said bassist’s wife added.

“I think it’s always a good thing to keep siblings together like that,” the nurse told them. “Maybe not so much when one’s sick, though.”

“Not much we could do about that, unfortunately,” Rikki sighed. “But at least we’re getting the one checked out.”

“I won’t be surprised if the doctor wantsta examine his lil brother, too,” she said. “She likes playing it safe, especially when they’re already showing symptoms of having caught the same cold.”

Nodding, Mishy and the drummer worked with her to get the peanut-sized bassist’s vitals, neither surprised that he was a hair uncooperative. After all, he could get a lil combative when somebody tried to get him to see a doctor for something when he was normal–it only stood to reason that he’d be even worse as a baby. Luckily for them, he just didn’t seem to have any Energy to put up a real fight, but it was still pretty obvious that he wasn’t happy.

After taking his vitals and recording them in a chart she started just for them, the nurse left to go let the doctor she worked for know they were waiting. Rikki settled on the exam table with him in his lap, looking every bit the concerned, protective father as he snuggled him. If ever there’d been a similar sight–or even one that outdid him–it was when his friend was snuggling baby Zach like this.

It didn’t take long for the doctor to knock on the exam room door, which garnered a response from his wife that it was fine to enter. The woman who opened the door and stepped into the exam room wasn’t exactly elderly, but she was certainly older than her early-thirties. If they were forced to even try pegging her age, they’d have prolly said around forty-five, considering that her hair was still mostly black, but starting to go gray around her temples. Not only that, but while she didn’t have as many lines and wrinkles as she could, she certainly already had a few, some deeper than others.

“Well, hello there,” she said, holding out two fingers to Bobby. “Poor lil man–what’s your name?”

“His name’s Bobby,” Rikki answered with a chuckle. “He’s usually a bit of a shy, quiet one, even when he _can_ talk.”

“Well, my name’s Dr. Betty,” the pediatrician told them, her eyes widening when she noticed the carrier. “And who’s this lil guy?”

“This is his baby brother, Zach,” Mishy answered, gently rocking the carrier with her foot when said baby started to fuss.

“I’m guessing everyone lives in the same household?” Dr. Betty asked.

“Well, yeah–she and I are married, and we adopted these two,” the drummer answered. “We were originally gonna adopt just Bobby, but once we found out they were full-blooded brothers, we couldn’t just turn out backs on Zach.”

“Then I’ma wanna examine both of them,” she told them. “Better to play it safe since they’re both already here, and I can tell Zach’s a lot younger.”

“Zach’s eight months old, and Bobby’s twenty-six months,” the ginger supplied.

“Yeah, definitely best to examine both of them,” the pediatrician said. “Zach’s even more susceptible to infections than Bobby is, especially if he wasn’t nursed as a newborn–and Bobby’s immunity’s already not the best since he’s just over two.”

“Your nurse said as much–aboutcha wanting to examine Zach, too, I mean,” Rikki chuckled, gently prying his friend away from him. “C’mon, buddy, and sit up so Dr. Betty can examine ya.”

Bobby let out a displeased whine, which just made him let out another barking cough.

_ “Oooh,_ chu definitely don’t sound like chu feel too good, lil man,” Dr. Betty said. “Let’s get a listen at that lil ticker and those lil bellows.”

He didn’t exactly like being talked to like he really _was_ a baby, but he didn’t have much choice.

Even though he tried to behave himself, the peanut-sized bassist eventually got fed up with all the poking and prodding, which made him even more combative than he’d already been. Luckily, he was quickly given a diagnosis of just having a bad chest cold with just a touch of bronchitis, which explained his barking coughs. It was easy enough to treat, even if they’d to go so far as to get a kiddie nebulizer to give him breathing treatments to help break up the gunk stuck deep in his chest.

Once she’d finished up with him, Dr. Betty turned her attention to the younger baby, who was even more unhappy than his daddy. Mishy did her best to Soothe him once she and the drummer switched places, but he’d always been pretty fussy when he didn’t feel good. If he’d caught even a touch of what his daddy had, it was no Wonder he was kicking and screaming, despite his coughing.

Just like Bobby, his son got an official diagnosis of having the Beginnings of a chest cold with just a touch of bronchitis. Again, it was easy enough to treat, and as long as they kept an eye on them, neither one should have to be hospitalized for it. The doctor’s advice beyond the antibiotics and breathing treatments she was gonna prescribe for both boys was actually hot showers. Well, as hot as they could stand, ’cuz while the heat’d help with breaking up the gunk in their chests, they didn’t wanna scald the poor lil guys.

“So, where’re we supposed to get even one of these lil nebulizers?” Rikki asked curiously.

“I keep a few on hand here at the office, ’cuz sometimes I’ve to dole out the breathing treatments right here,” she answered. “When I’ve to do that, I just send them home with the kids and their parents so we don’t have to worry about cross-contaminating anyone or anything. Besides, at that point, the kids usually need them bad enough that I’d be sending them to their insurance companies or a medical supply store for one, anyway.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to be shown how to use it,” the drummer chuckled. “’Cuz I dunno ’bout my wife, but I haven’t got the first clue how to use a nebulizer.”

“It’s pretty easy, but lemme go get them, and I’ll be glad to show ya,” Dr. Betty laughed.

Mishy was gently rocking her fussy son as she fed him from a bottle of her pumped milk as the pediatrician left the exam room. “Well, at least she’s willing to show us,” she said. “’Cuz I don’t have the first inkling of how to use one, either.”

“Hey, that just shows how rarely Zach gets sick,” he reassured her. “Which I’d say is a good thing.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to look at it,” the young woman agreed with a nod.

Moments later, the pediatrician Returned with a few boxes in her hands, using her foot to kick the door shut behind her. Even Bobby looked curious as she started pulling a lil machine outta one, his brow furrowing as she pulled a set of lil plastic tubes outta another. Breaking one off from the rest, she explained that the lil tubes held the albuterol treatments that got put into the nebulizers as she opened it and showed the supposed couple how to load the machine.

As she set up a lil mask like what’d be used in a hospital since that was usually easier for babies and young children, Dr. Betty explained what it did. The albuterol was a bronchodilator, which meant that–much like an inhaler for an asthmatic–it worked by opening the airways more. Part of that was by relaxing the tiny muscles that made the bronchi constrict when they became inflamed during illness.

With the machine and treatment set up, she moved to hold the lil mask over the peanut-sized bassist’s face before turning the machine on. As soon as she did, both boys jumped from how loud it was momentarily startling them, but luckily, they didn’t start crying. If anything, the older of them seemed a bit surprised to feel a cool Mist hitting his face, which he was forced to inhale due to the mask being held in place by her steady hand. After just a couple minutes, he couldn’t help starting to cough uncontrollably, which was actually the very sign she was looking for. That meant the albuterol in the breathing treatment was already starting to work the way it was supposed to, which was good.

Pausing the treatment to let him cough up whatever’d gotten loosened, the pediatrician warned his supposed parents of a handful of side effects. Nervousness, tremors, headache, nausea, and/or dizziness could potentially occur, which was pretty common since albuterol was a stimulant. If any of those effects were to persist well after being given the breathing treatment or worsen, she wanted them to give her a call and tell her promptly. Most Times, it was nothing to worry about, but it could certainly turn into a reason to worry, if it went on for too long.

“Personally, I’m always more concerned with it raising a patient’s blood pressure too much, or making their hearts race for a bit too long,” she admitted as she started the treatment up again.

“I’m guessing an increase in both comes from it being a stimulant?” Rikki asked.

“It does, and it’s kinda comparable to drinking coffee,” the pediatrician told them. “If it raises one’s heart rate and blood pressure for a short period like coffee does at first, there’s not much to worry about. But letting it go on unchecked and without doing anything to lower both again can cause some serious damage in even an adult, let alone a small child.”

“Yeah, we definitely don’t want that,” he agreed with a wince as he rubbed Bobby’s back when he started coughing again.

“Which means he shouldn’t be given one more than twice daily till he’s better unless he absolutely needs it,” Dr. Betty continued. “Same goes for baby Zach, since the other nebulizer and set of treatments is for him.”

“I think we can manage that,” Mishy told her. “I mean, Rikki and I aren’t stupid or anything.”

“I never said either of ya were,” she laughed. “I just meant that these things can cause some pretty serious side effects, which can be worse in younger ages and the elderly.”

“Sounds like just about any other medication on the market,” the drummer dead-panned.

None of them could really disagree with that assessment, all of them glad that once he’d stopped this round of coughing, the peanut-sized bassist’s breathing was already starting to sound better. His lil hands were shaking like leaves, but that was what Dr. Betty’d meant by the albuterol potentially causing tremors. She told them that she’d bet by the Time they gave Zach one right here in office, the older boy’s shakiness woulda subsided on its own.

Said younger baby was even more unhappy than his daddy’d been when they got the second nebulizer set up and his mama held the lil mask over his face. He obviously didn’t have the mental capacity that Bobby did at the moment, and he didn’t know what they were doing to him, just that he didn’t like having his face obstructed.

Luckily, the albuterol started working in him just like it was supposed to, and it wasn’t long before he was starting to cough up what got loosened. The peanut-sized bassist looked worried as Mishy held him against her shoulder, letting the phlegm he coughed up land on her shoulder so he wouldn’t choke on it. If she took it as anything, Dr. Betty seemed to assume that they really were brothers and a lot closer than one’d think at first glance due to their close ages. At least it kept the Secret that none of them wanted becoming public Knowledge ever, but especially not anytime soon. If that Secret got kept and went with them to their graves, it was all for the better for everyone even remotely involved.

Once Zach’d gotten his breathing treatment, he was every bit as shaky as Bobby’d been just a few short minutes ago. Thankfully, though, said peanut-sized bassist’s shaking’d already subsided, just like the pediatrician’d said it would. As long as his son responded the same way, he’d likely stop shaking by the Time they got his daddy checked out since he’d never actually been checked in as a patient. Other than making a stop for some cough syrup to help them sleep without coughing so much, they were ready to go so the boys could get some rest.


	10. Nine

A quick pit stop at a pharmacy on the way home was meant to land the group with kid-friendly cough syrup that’d be safe for both boys. Rikki wasn’t surprised when his friend refused to stay in the car, if only ’cuz he hated being buckled in for longer than he absolutely had to be. Heaving a sigh since he was just as tired and starting to get frustrated, he hefted his thirty pounds up outta the car seat, Mishy grabbing Zach’s eighteen-pound self from his carrier.

In the pharmacy they’d stopped at, he let the young woman take the lead since she already possessed a bit more Knowledge on this stuff. Maybe it wasn’t by much since her son was only pushing a Year old, but he was certain it was more than what lil he’d acquired lately. She’d prolly be able to decide on the best cough syrup to suit both boys better and easier than he could ’cuz of that lil bit more experience and Knowledge. If not, then he’d know something definitely wasn’t quite right and that she’d lost her mind or something else equally serious and tragic.

Bobby snuggled against his friend, his head mostly resting on his shoulder like kids were often known for doing to whatever adult held them. He still wasn’t feeling his best–at least, compared to what he’d felt when this’d all started–but certainly better than he’d felt even that Morn. Considering that he hadn’t been sleeping well for the past few Days, that was to be expected by the supposed couple.

Just as they were about to turn toward the registers up front, they encountered a young woman who was shopping for her own young child–or at least, what appeared to be such. She couldn’t help cooing over the cuties Rikki and Mishy held, even what appeared to be her daughter looking Awed. Letting the older of the boys gently grab her fingers from where his supposed daddy held him made her let out a soft gasp, her grip tightening just a hair when he tried to pull his hand away. It wasn’t tight enough to hurt him or anything, but certainly tight enough to hold the lil appendage in place for a few moments as her eyes glazed over like she was in some kinda trance.

“All ain’t as it seems with this lil man,” she finally said, her eyes focusing again as she seemed to snap outta it.

“Well, he and his brother are sick with a Summer cold,” Rikki said, shrugging as he tried to downplay the odd comment.

The young woman shot him a look as she lowered her voice. “Don’t feed me that bullshit–I can feel that he’s _really_ a grown man, and that the younger baby’s really his son.”

He and Mishy both looked startled, even the peanut-sized bassist shooting her a weird look.

“Don’t argue with a decently-experienced Witch who’s good at what she does–which happens to include Energy work,” she told them.

“Mommy can sense things that others can’t,” the lil girl beside her giggled. “Even when she doesn’t see me, she always knows when I sneak a cookie before dinner.”

“Well, that’s how a lotta parents are, sweetie,” the ginger told her with a chuckle.

_ “Nuuuu,_ I mean even when she’s upstairs, she _still_ knows,” she laughed. “She just touches the cookie jar, and she _knows.”_

The supposed couple weren’t quite sure what to make of that as they shot a look at each other.

“Just bring them to this address once they’re feeling better,” the other young woman said, handing a business card to the drummer. “No need to spread their cold, if we can help it, and besides, they need to rest.”

_ “Siren Mysticveil, Psychic Medium, Healer, and More?”_ Rikki read before looking back up at her.

“Guilty as charged,” Siren chuckled, smirking at him. “Although _Siren Mysticveil_ ain’t my real name–it’s just my Craft name.”

Again, they weren’t quite sure what to make of that, but they didn’t say so as they finally managed to head up to the registers. Mishy somehow looked even more skeptical than her supposed husband, which was most likely her maternal, protective instincts coming out to play. He couldn’t really say he felt any differently, though, and merely shrugged as she set the boxes she’d grabbed on the counter.

With their small purchase rang up and paid for, they headed back out to his car so they could load Bobby and Zach up to head back home at last. It seemed the older of the boys was curious about what the strange woman’d meant, judging by him staring out the window next to him as she stepped outside once he was buckled in. Maybe if she could really tell that he was actually a grown, married man and father just from holding his hand, she could offer some Insight into why he’d suddenly woke up an infant a month and a-half ago.

Other than going to the address on the business card they’d been given, they weren’t gonna find out if that theory held any weight. But like she’d said, they were gonna put it off till both boys felt better, ’cuz she was certainly right about them needing their rest to be able to recover. In the meantime while they were waiting for that, Rikki and Mishy’d make sure both boys damn near got smothered in snuggles and plenty of fluids and rest between warm showers.

It was roughly two weeks later before Bobby and Zach’d recovered enough to be doing much venturing outside the drummer’s house. During that Time, they were almost constantly cuddling with each other, or one of the adults caring for them, whether they were awake or asleep. Thankfully, both boys seemed to sleep more than they didn’t, which certainly helped with their quick recovery alongside the antibiotics and breathing treatments they were given.

When both boys were sufficiently recovered, as per the clean Bill of Health given to them by Dr. Betty, Rikki and Mishy decided it was Time they went to see that Siren woman. All of them were curious as to what she could possibly have to say about the boys and their conditions, but they were especially curious about what she could say in regards to the peanut-sized bassist.

At first glance, the house they pulled up outside of about six miles from the drummer’s was definitely more quaint-looking, rather than like a grand estate. It looked more like the suburban home of any normal family, what with its white–or otherwise Light-colored–exterior and neat, but meticulous landscaping. That included the massive Stones laid out so that the grass showed between them leading up to what’d to be a two-car garage, as well as the similarly-colored and -sized Stones with what appeared to be River rock between them as a front walkway. Even without knowing _who_ was supposed to live here, it was obvious they’d quite a bit of money, albeit not as much as the drummer by far.

Bobby reached over his head and grabbed his friend’s hand once they were outta his car, insisting on walking up to the front door for once. He wanted to build up what lil stamina he still had as a toddler after that cold, and he saw no better way to do it than this. Still, he clutched his teddy bear to his chest with his other arm, his paci stuck in his mouth to suckle nervously as they made their way up. Said supposed daddy gladly held his hand and carried both diaper bags while Mishy carried the younger baby in her arms.

“Ah, welcome, welcome,” Siren said upon answering her front door and seeing who it was. “I got the feeling you’d show up within the next Day or two, if it wasn’t today.”

“That simply from having a lil one of your own who’s no doubt been sick before, or those supposed psychic abilities?” Rikki chuckled as she let them into what was supposed to be a foyer, if the house’s layout wasn’t open-concept.

“Both, actually,” she laughed, closing the door behind them. “Just park yourselves on the couch for now–I’ve to go check on Marina and grab a couple things from my office.”

“I’m guessing Marina’s the lil cutie that was with ya a couple weeks ago?” Mishy asked curiously.

“Yeah, she’s my daughter–and currently in the middle of a parlor spell,” the younger woman answered, nodding. “She’s generally pretty good about not knocking her Candles over once I light ’em for her, but she still needs supervision since she’s only four.”

“Jeez, already got her into spell work so young?” the drummer asked, surprised.

“My mother raised me the same way, as did her mother before her,” Siren answered. “’Tisn’t an uncommon thing with Pagan lineage.”

“Well, I guess we’ll take your word for it,” the young ginger said. “I’m sure ya know more about that kinda stuff than we do.”

“Before I grab that stuff outta my office, though, none of y’all suffer from asthma or anything of the like, right?” she asked.

“Well, these two just got over a Summer cold that came with a touch of bronchitis,” Rikki answered, rubbing the peanut-sized bassist’s back when he coughed around his paci while pointing to Zach.

“Say no more,” the younger woman laughed. “I was asking so I could decide to go with Incense, or essential oils.”

“What difference does it make?” Mishy asked, sounding curious.

“Incense gives off Smoke once ya light it and blow out the Flame, which generally ain’t good for asthmatics or those with other breathing problems,” Siren answered. “Essential oils can give off the same scents, depending on whatcha choose, but’re generally healthier for those aforementioned groups.”

_ “Ahhhh,_ and ya don’t wanna trigger anyone by accident,” the drummer said, nodding as Enlightenment Dawned on him.

Returning the nod, the eccentric young woman headed through the foyer to a small hallway-like area that’d an archway on its back side. Through that archway, they could see part of what looked like the kitchen and maybe a smaller, cozier living area. It certainly seemed like a more lived-in part of the house than the room they were currently sitting in, so they could only assume she worked from home and this was the area she used with all of her _clients_.

Soft giggles could be heard as she walked into the other room, and considering they sounded so childlike, Rikki and Mishy could only assume they belonged to the lil girl she said was her daughter. Whatever she was working on back there, it seemed to be bringing her quite a bit of Joy, even if it seemed strange to the two of them.

It didn’t take long for Siren to Return with several items in her hands, a couple of them cradled against her torso and held there with her arms. As she started setting these items down, the drummer leaning forward to help her, they were able to see what they were. There were a couple tall Candles in skinny jars they’d have sworn belonged in a cathedral or other Catholic rite, a couple more that were obviously tealights, and a bag of what seemed like a deck of cards. In addition to that, there was some kinda odd-looking bowl-and-stand combination, not to mention various other lil bags. Still, she wasn’t done, ’cuz she needed to run back to her office for a few more things she couldn’t carry this trip.

Upon her second Return, she held what looked a small, but heavy Cauldron, which was only made heavier by the few things within it. Those few things were some kinda cup that resembled an old-World wine glass, a Bell, and a knife with the oddest design they’d ever seen on it. What surprised them even more was when she started arranging everything on the coffee table before them, obviously having specific places for each item. The Cauldron Dominated the setup by being placed in the Center, but each of the other objects seemed to go in various places that didn’t make sense to them.

“What’s with each thing being in a different place?” Rikki asked curiously.

“The Cauldron’s representative of Earth, or more aptly, the Cosmic Womb,” she told them. “That’s why it’s in the dead Center. The bowl of Sand and green Candle’re at the Northern point, ’cuz the Element of Earth rules that Direction.”

All of them, even Bobby, listened Intently.

“The Bell and yellow Candle’re representative of Air, which rules the Eastern point,” Siren continued. “The charcoal and red Candle represent Fire, which rules the Southern point, and the filled Chalice and blue Candle represent Water, which rules the Western point.”

“Huh, I guess that makes sense now,” Mishy said thoughtfully.

“It takes a while to memorize correspondences–even the simple ones–but when you’ve been doing this as long as I have, it becomes second Nature,” the young woman laughed.

“So, what’s in the last bag?” the drummer asked, which took care of the question on all but Zach’s minds.

“My Tarot deck,” she answered simply. “In being a Water Witch–meaning my strongest Element’s Water–I’ve a strong gift with Intuition and all things Divinatory.”

“What’s the last word supposed to mean, though?” the young ginger asked.

“The Art of Divination’s the practice of seeking Knowledge of the Future–even the Past and Present, in some cases–or the Unknown by supernatural means,” Siren answered as she opened the drawstrings of that last bag. “Meaning that I don’t necessarily need the background story on what happened to the lil man who shouldn’t be to potentially figure out _exactly_ what happened to him, not to mention why.”

“Damn, really?” Rikki asked, his eyes widening in surprise.

“Honestly, I prefer working _without_ that kinda background information–usually makes my readings a lot clearer for at least me when I’m not feeding on anything of the sort,” she answered with a shrug as she shuffled her cards.

“Then we won’t give it to ya,” he agreed with a nod.

“It’ll be easier, if I’ve something _of_ his to work with, though,” the younger woman told them. “Doesn’t have to be a lock of his hair or anything crazy like you’ve undoubtedly heard in those ridiculous B-rated movies–even a necklace he loves works.”

“Really?” his wife asked.

“Even a favorite necklace can collect his Energy, and that’ll be easier to work with laying on my makeshift Altar than trying to make him sit in the Cauldron,” Siren laughed.

Bobby was all too eager to get started, gently smacking at his friend’s arm to get his attention before miming pulling at his throat. Something’d told him to bring the guitar-shaped necklace he rarely took off till earlier this Year, which was often seen in promotional shots of the band throughout their _Look What the Cat Dragged In_ and _Open Up_ eras. He couldn’t say _why_ he’d gotten that feeling, just that he’d gotten it and decided that heeding it was a better idea than not.

Nodding as he reached into his pocket, Rikki pulled out the plastic baggie he’d put said necklace in what the peanut-sized bassist’d refused to even leave his room without it. Passing it across the coffee table to what they now knew what a real-Life Witch, he told her who it belonged to, how long he’d owned it, and how he rarely took it off till that Summer.

Keeping her touch gentle so as not to break it and lose the tiny lil pendant, Siren pulled the leather-corded necklace outta the plastic bag. Her eyes closed as she cradled it in her palm for a moment, almost as if she were listening to voices that weren’t there–and maybe she was. She then laid it down in the Cauldron, which’d remained empty up to this point, before taking up the knife she’d brought with her from her office. They weren’t quite sure what she was about to do as she rose with it in hand, and they were all a lil wary as she took a deep breath once she was facing North.

_ “De stàball Talamh, Sgriosach Adhair, Glanaidh Teine, agus Glanadh Uisge cho gorm, tha mi a 'tilgeadh a' Cearcall seo cothromach agus fìor,”_ the young Witch said, spinning in a slow Circle till she’d faced all of the Cardinal Directions and Ended back at her starting point as she spoke.

All of them–even baby Zach–shivered as they felt the sudden shift in Energy around them, but didn’t say a word.

_ “Oooh,_ ritual–yays!”

Looking up, they saw the lil girl from a couple weeks ago come running from the back room, a grin on her face. They were surprised when she skidded to a stop at a certain point in the foyer just behind the pair of arm chairs that seemed to separate living room from dining room. After a few moments of seemingly staring her mother down, her grin Returned as she joined her at the coffee table, kneeling down as she examined what was on in without a single touch.

“Only ’cuz you’ve to eventually find your own Divination technique am I gonna letcha watch me, Marina,” she told her. “But no touching unless I say so.”

“Got it, Mommy,” Marina agreed with a nod.

“What’d ya say a minute ago, though?” Rikki asked. “And in what language?”

_ “Of stable Earth, Destructive Air, Purifying Fire, and Cleansing Water so blue, I cast this Circle fair and true_–and in Scotch Gaelic,” the young Witch laughed. “My mother’d a thing for the Celts–of which even the Welsh and Scotch were technically part, not just the Irish–when I was young.”

“Circle-casting’s important to keep out bad Energy!” her young daughter declared before either adult could even ask. “Chu can gets hurted, if chu no cast a Circle afore Divining or casting a spell!”

“That’s exactly right, sweetheart,” Siren agreed. “And by Forces many Conjure up without the slightest clue how to Banish or otherwise rid ’emselves of later on.”

“Well, guess we got an answer without even having to ask the question,” the drummer chuckled.

“Mommy says I’ma smart cookie!” the lil girl giggled as her mother shuffled her Tarot cards again.

“She’s still working on reading people and their Energy, but she’s only four–I expect no less at that age,” she chuckled. “Just like I don’t expect her to know the meanings of the cards I deal any more than I expect y’all to till I explain ’em.”

The young Witch laid the first card she drew face-down so it’d be turned vertically when viewed by herself or whoever was directly across from her, the second turned so it’d be horizontal, but still face-down. After that, the third card was also turned vertically, but placed on the left side of the previous two, the fourth card taking an identical position on the right. From there, the fifth and sixth cards were placed at the top and bottom respectively, both of them turned vertically, as well.

Siren then drew four more cards, laying them vertically in a straight line so the seventh total card was at the bottom, the tenth at the top, off to the right side of the other six. Looking up at the quartet in front of her, she explained that this pattern was called the _Celtic Cross_ spread, and it was well-known amongst Tarot readers. It was one of the rare ones that could still be used, even when one didn’t have a specific question for the cards when they started their reading, but with so many cards drawn, it could be complicated for Beginners. Due to being a ten-card spread, it examined several different aspects of a person and their situation, breaking things down quite a bit.

As she started off, she said that the first card drawn was representative of the Present or the Self, meaning the person with the question, if there was one. This position revealed the current situation, and what was now happening–but it could also be used to represent what the current state of mind was for the querent and a snapshot of who the querent is at the current moment in Time.

Next up was the second card, which was representative of the problem, and therefore the challenge that the querent was facing at that Time–which was generally something that they needed to resolve in order to make progress forward. Following that was the third card, which was representative of the Past, and it was here that one Saw the Past events, and also how they’d shaped the current situation. That could give some information on Influences in the Past that’d lead up to the state of affairs in question by the querent. After that was the fourth card, which was representative of the Future, meaning what could be a likely turn of events, given that nothing Changed.

“These’re usually short-term happenings, and doesn’t represent the final resolution of these events,” Siren explained, her finger still on the fourth card she’d drawn.

“All right, so what’s next?” the drummer asked curiously.

“The fifth card, representative of the Conscious,” she answered. “This card explores what you’re focused on, and where your mind is–this can represent your goals and your desires regarding this situation, as well as what your assumptions are.”

“What about the next one?” Mishy asked, just as fascinated as her husband and his friend.

“The sixth’s representative of the Unconscious,” Siren explained. “The Unconscious reveals what’s truly driving this situation–the feelings, the beliefs, and the values that perhaps the querent doesn’t even understand yet. Sometimes this card may be a surprise, and can also represent a Hidden Influence.”

Even Rikki seemed a bit spooked by that, but he chose not to say it aloud.

“The seventh card’s representative of one’s own Influence,” the young Witch continued. “This card can be interpreted somewhat broadly–but in general, relatesta how one sees ’emselves, and how that perception can Influence how the situation plays out. What beliefs about yourself do ya carry–do ya expand or limit yourself? Those kinda things.”

“I’m kinda scared to ask about the next one now,” the ginger admitted.

“The eighth card’s representative of external Influence,” she told them. “This card represents the World around ya–or the Macrocosm–and how it affects the situation. It may represent the social and Emotional environment that you’re operating in, as well as how others perceive ya.”

“Okay, that doesn’t sound quite as bad,” Rikki mused, even Bobby nodding his agreement as he suckled his paci.

“The ninth card’s representative of one’s Hopes and Fears,” Siren forged on. “One of the harder positions in this spread to decode, this card can represent both whatcha Secretly desire, as well as whatcha may be trying to avoid. Human Nature’s often paradoxical, and what we Fear the most is sometimes what we also truly have been hoping for all along.”

“Like those who swear they’re terrified of Love, butcha can tell that’s really what they want more than anything,” the drummer said thoughtfully.

“Exactly,” she said, nodding. “The tenth and final card’s representative of the outcome. This card’s meant to be a summary of all the previous cards–given all that’s happening, what’s the likely resolution of this event?”

All ears, even those of Marina, were still locked on her.

“Should ya find a card here that doesn’t have a favorable outcome, ya can analyze the remainder of the spread to find another course of action,” the young Witch concluded.

Rikki and Mishy were both a bit nervous as she moved to start flipping over the drawn cards, as evidenced by how they unconsciously grabbed each others’ hands. Even the peanut-sized bassist seemed pretty anxious, judging by how he grabbed each of their wrists where they lay in his lap with his lil hands. Nervously suckling his paci as if he were chewing gum in his normal state also gave him away, but no one could really blame him.

Now was the Beginning of the moment of Truth when it came to finding out why he’d woken up as a baby on the verge of being a toddler. If Siren and her _Celtic Cross_ Tarot spread couldn’t help them, they weren’t too sure what they were gonna do from here. They didn’t have any ideas on where to Begin, let alone when it came to the Ending of getting him back to normal and in his adult body.


	11. Ten

Reminding the group surrounding her of what each card position meant, Siren grabbed the edge of the first card in the fingers of her right hand. The fingers of her left hand kept the second card laying atop it pressed down so it wouldn’t be flipped over prematurely as she pulled the first out from underneath it.

The group didn’t know what the image–which appeared to be a man riding a Horse that was rearing up before charging ahead–on it meant, but they didn’t ask for an explanation just yet. Everyone simply sat quietly as she flipped over the second card, which she again laid atop the first and studied just as carefully. On its front appeared to be a person with three Swords on either side, two more crossed over their lower half in the shape of an _X_. After that, it was Time for her to flip the third card, which seemed to bear a flying guitar pick over two twisted Snakes that appeared to be rising outta two Chalices.

Next was the fourth card, which appeared to depict an Eagle or other Bird of prey that was hovering over a single Chalice. The fifth appeared to depict the Moon shining down on a Lake or Pond, which Reflected the Trees on its banks with the Pisces symbol in the Water. As soon as their eyes clapped on the sixth–which seemed to depict a demonic entity with a pair of Ghosts next to its feet–they couldn’t help a collective startled gasp.

Up next was the seventh card, which appeared to depict a person standing on the parapet of a Castle with what looked like a Wand in hand, eight more beneath the person. The eighth card seemed to depict a Castle or some other Medieval dwelling with two Wands on either side of it. On the face of the ninth card, the image seemed to be of a cross made of a Sword–or maybe more like an old-World balancing scale. The tenth and final card seemed to depict a woman who was most likely preaching to an unseen congregation surrounded by two Snakes that bit each others’ tails. On the outside of the never-Ending Circle they formed were four different symbols, one in each of the four corners, and Stars.

“Well, this is certainly interesting,” Siren finally said after studying each of the cards carefully.

“Whaddaya mean?” the drummer asked curiously, making her look up at them.

“Starting with the first, I’ma give the dumbed-down explanation of what each means, both upright and reversed,” she told them. “I’ll go into a more in-depth explanation in a few minutes.”

“Sounds good to us,” Mishy agreed with a nod.

“This first card’s the Knight of Wands,” the young Witch Began. “There’s four suits in Tarot, just like a typical deck of playing cards. Instead of having Hearts, Spades, Diamonds, and Clubs, you’ve Pentacles, Wands, Swords, and Cups–and each suit’s associated with one of the four Elements.”

“Care to explain that part real quick?” Rikki asked. “I think I get it, but I don’t wanna make an ass of myself by assuming.”

“Associated with the Element of Fire, the Suit of Wands represents Passion, Inspiration, and Willpower,” Siren explained. “The Wands imbue their users with Primal Energy, for it’s through them that the Cycle of Creation can Begin. ’Cuz of their ability to bring Energy into any situation, they’re also associated with action, Ambition, and making plans.”

“Sounds like a pretty good thing to me,” the young ginger mused.

“At their worst, they can refer to situations that’re filled with recklessness and lack of Direction,” she warned. “As ya follow the Journey within the Wands, you'll come across these themes again and again.”

“Yikes,” they winced, even Bobby whimpering softly at the Thought.

“The Suit of Cups rules over all that’s associated with Emotions, the Conscious, Creativity, and Intuition,” the young Witch continued. “They frequently talk about relationships, whether Romantic or otherwise, and one's Imagination and Inner World–they’re associated with the Element of Water, which becomes a frequent visual theme within this suit. At their worst, the Cups suit’s fret with uncontrolled feelings, Fantasy, and a disconnect with one’s inner voice.”

None of them could help another wince at hearing the worst qualities of that particular suit.

“The Swords is the Suit of Intelligence, Logic, Truth, Ambition, conflict, and Communication,” Siren told them. “It’s associated with the Element of Air.”

Even Marina was listening Intently.

“In readings, these cards focus on the faculty and Power of Intellect, which like the Swords ’emselves, are double-edged–this can be used for both good or evil, to help and to harm, and our greatest conflicts usually come from this delicate balance,” she continued. “At their worst, the Swords can be abusive, harsh, and lack Empathy.”

The entire group winced again, the peanut-sized bassist whimpering almost as if he Feared such an interpretation of the cards.

“And finally, the Pentacles is the Suit of all things Worldly and material,” the young Witch said. “Though we’ll immediately think of the Pentacles as relating to financial matters, we also can understand ’em as being associated with Security, Stability, Nature, Health, and Prosperity.”

“Definitely sounds like a more positive thing to me,” Rikki mused.

“The Pentacles’re of the Earth Element. When we see Pentacles show up in a reading, they’re usually concerned with your long term Future, career, Generosity, your household, business investments, and your feelings of sensuality,” Siren continued. “The negative side of the Pentacles show up as Greed, Jealousy, miserliness, and unbridled Ambition at the cost of all else.”

“Okay, maybe not so good,” he winced, even Mishy cringing.

“Now, going back to that Knight of Wands,” she said with a chuckle. “Upright, it means action, adventure, Fearlessness, etc.–reversed, it means Anger, impulsiveness, recklessness, etc.”

The young Witch explained how the second card–the Eight of Swords–meant imprisonment, entrapment, Self-victimization, etc. when upright, but Self-Acceptance, new perspectives, Freedom, etc. when reversed. Her third draw–the Two of Cups–meant Unity, partnership, connection, etc. when upright, but imbalance, broken Communication, tension, etc. when reversed. After that came her fourth draw–the Ace of Cups–which meant new feelings, Spirituality, Intuition, etc. when upright, Emotional loss, blocked Creativity, emptiness, etc. when reversed.

Her fifth and sixth draw–the Moon and the Devil–came from a set of twenty-two Tarot cards known as the _Major Arcana_. The Moon meant the unconscious, illusions, Intuition, etc. when upright, but confusion, Fear, misinterpretation, etc. when reversed. The Devil stood for addiction, materialism, playfulness, etc. when upright, but Freedom, release, restoring Control, etc. when reversed.

After that were her seventh and eighth draws, which were the Nine and Four of Wands, respectively. The Nine of Wands meant resilience, grit, a last stand, etc. when upright, but exhaustion, fatigue, questioning motivations, etc. when reversed. The Four of Wands addressed community, home, celebration, etc. when upright, but lack of support, transience, home conflicts, etc. when reversed. Following those were what Siren called Justice and the World, which were also part of the _Major Arcana_. Justice meant cause and effect, Clarity, Truth, etc. when upright, but dishonesty, unaccountability, unfairness, etc. when reversed.

That final card–the World–meant fulfillment, Harmony, Completion, etc. when upright, but it meant incompletion, no closure, etc. when it was reversed. What confused them about all the uprights and reversed meanings was that they didn’t know one from the other since they didn’t know the first thing about Tarot. Siren laughed as she explained that she meant whether the card was right-side-up or upside-down when viewed by her since she was the one doing the reading.

“Now, I just gave the basic gist of what each card, itself means,” she said. “Can ya remember what I told ya each card’s place in the _Celtic Cross_ spread means?”

“Uh, wasn’t the first one the Present or the Self?” Rikki asked.

_ “Mmm hmm,”_ the young Witch hummed, nodding. “Which means that your friend’s more of a mind of action, adventure, and Fearlessness since it’s upright, rather than reversed.”

“That totally puts Bobby in a nutshell,” he chuckled, said toddler giggling where he was snuggled against his side. “He’s been known to run off with fans while we were at one tour stop, then have them drive him to the next one just in the nick of Time.”

“This second card, which represents the problem at hand–the Eight of Swords–being reversed implies entrapment, Self-victimization, and the like,” Siren said. “Considering he’s a grown man trapped in the body of a toddler, I’d say that’s definitely a form of entrapment.”

Said peanut-sized bassist huffed around his paci as he nodded, thinking that that much shoulda been pretty obvious already.

“The third card, which represents the Past–the Two of Cups–is reversed,” she continued. “That bespeaks imbalance, broken Communication, tension, and the like. Now, whether that’s as a part of his career, home Life, or both, I dunno.”

“Prolly both, if I’m honest,” the drummer said. “Things with the band haven’t exactly been going the best lately, especially with our guitarist’s cocaine addiction, and Bobby’s pretty Secretive when he wantsta be.”

“We haven’t exactly talked about our relationship much lately, but if I didn’t know any better, I’d say my husband hasn’t divorced me simply ’cuz of our son,” Mishy said with a resigned sigh as she bounced the baby in question.

They all noticed how Bobby didn’t so much as nod or shake his head in confirmation, nor denial of that accusation.

“And there’s but one example of broken Communication,” Siren told them. “Bobby, ya gotta start talking about things like this–no matter how much it hurts you or others–or the Two of Cups is gonna keep coming up, and in its reversed state.”

Letting out another huff, he moved to scoot down off the couch, Rikki already pulling out the baggie of _Scrabble_ tiles for him.

_ Ya act like it’s easy for me when my wife’s pulling away to the point that she’d even consider cheating with one of my best friends, just ’cuz I’ma baby,_ they read once he was done arranging letters. _It’s not, not when she at least_ was _the Love of my Life, and I’ve our son to worry about, too_.

“So, why not just tell her about these things?” the young Witch asked.

_ ’Cuz I tell no one what’s on my mind without them bringing the topic up first_–_it’s a Comfort zone thing, and it’s been that way since I was a kid_.

Deciding it was better to move on before they upset him too much, Siren reminded them that the fourth card represented the Future. Since it was the Ace of Cups and upright, that meant he was in for new feelings, Spirituality, Intuition, and the like, but they all knew the Truth. Before any of that, he’d no doubt have some Emotional loss, blocked Creativity, and emptiness, but the bad seemed to always come before the good.

Next was the Moon and the Devil, which represented the Conscious and Unconscious in this particular spread. With the Moon being reversed, that meant it was to be interpreted as meaning confusion, Fear, and misinterpretation on at least one person’s part. She didn’t have the slightest doubt that Bobby was confused as to why he’d wound up like this and Feared he’d never Return to normal.

As for the Devil, with it being upright, it was referring to addiction, materialism, playfulness, and other things of that Nature. If Rikki hadn’t already mentioned their guitarist’s addiction, she’d have asked for some kinda clarification, but that already gave her a hint. When combined with the peanut-sized bassist’s lack of Communication at home, she suspected he harbored a few addictions of his own that he hadn’t mentioned here. And even then, the aforementioned broken Communication coulda simply been amongst his band as a result of these hinted addictions. It didn’t matter whether those addictions were his own, those of his band mates, or a combination of both, either.

The Nine of Wands was upright, which meant it eluded to resilience, grit, and putting up a last stand, while the Four of Wands was reversed, which meant a lack of support, transience, and home conflicts. Clearly, Bobby’d quite the bit of resilience and grit, if he was able to cope with physically being a toddler even half as well as he was. However, the home conflicts were no doubt the lack of Communication with his wife, and likely a lack of support from many. Maybe that was with getting help for any addictions he possessed, maybe it was as a member of his band, or something else altogether.

“Now, Justice being reversed is kinda concerning to me,” Siren admitted. “What with it eluding to dishonesty, unaccountability, and unfairness, among other things, one can’t really blame me.”

“Yeah, ’cuz is that in reference to Bobby, Mishy, or one of the rest of us guys?” the drummer asked. “Hell, it could even be in reference to our management, or someone else outside our main Circle, for all we know.”

“Exactly, and that’s why it’s at least a lil concerning,” she agreed.

“I’ll admit that I feel the same way,” Mishy said with a nod of her own.

“This last card–the World–being upright bespeaks good things, though,” the young Witch continued. “Since that means fulfillment, Harmony, Completion, etc., that might just mean that any problems leading to this’ll be completely fixed.”

“No doubt it’ll take Time, though,” Rikki dead-panned.

“Well, of course–the Universe never does something overnight,” Siren laughed. “It mighta seemed like his being Transformed into a toddler was an overnight thing, but no doubt it really wasn’t.”

“Whaddaya mean by that?” he asked curiously.

“That the Universe’s no doubt had this in the works for a while now, if not since he was born,” the young Witch explained. “Part of me wantsta say this is an attempt by the Universe to repair the rifts he’s currently got–with his wife, within his band, etc.–and to give him the resources to stand without those people, if those rifts can’t be repaired.”

When they thought about it like that, Mishy and the drummer both’d to admit that she’d a point in that particular theory. Even Bobby couldn’t deny that maybe that was the exact reason why this’d happened–to force him into opening up to said ginger, not to mention close the gaps between the members of Poison by slowly repairing their rifts. After all, it’d been his band mates to originally find him like this and have to care for him, and the tallest blonde’d been saddled with caring for him till his family showed up after their arrival in Los Angeles.

Before they left since it was nearing the boys’ naptime, Siren wrote down how to deal out the _Celtic Cross_ she’d just used, as well as how to deal out one using thirteen cards for a more in-depth reading. In addition to that, she handed the young ginger–who’d seemed more than a bit interested in what she was doing–a spare deck that she always kept on hand. Her belief was that she oughta give it a shot sometime, that she might be surprised by the results she got, if she did so.

Rikki thanked the young Witch for her Time, even trading contact information with her so they could keep in touch. They might find her talents useful again, whether it was in the near or distant Future, and for more than just an unsolicited Tarot reading. If that wound up being the case, he didn’t necessarily wanna have to drive back here to Sherman Oaks without at least giving her a call first. She might be able to sense that they were on their way, or have a feeling they’d pay her a visit soon again, but he still thought it rude not to announce their Intent. After the pleasantries were taken care of, the quartet headed back out to his car and to the Life they were forced to live for the Time being.


	12. Eleven

It was about a week after their visit to the young Witch that Mishy finally broke down and grabbed the deck of Tarot cards she’d been given from their hiding spot. She’d hidden them when they’d first gotten back to the drummer’s house, ’cuz given how she’d been raised, they were nothing short of sinful and evil. Accidentally unleashing that thing depicted on the Devil card in the house was the last thing she wanted to do, especially with her infant son there.

But by the Time that week was over, the young woman simply couldn’t fight the almost magnetic pull anymore. She made a quick call to Siren while Rikki was napping with the boys, and the young Witch’d almost immediately started laughing at her. Once she caught her breath, she told her that she wasn’t trying to make fun of her or anything, but there was a reason she was feeling this way.

To a Pagan, feeling such a strong pull to a specific object meant it was _Calling_ to them, and it was most often seen when they bought something like a Pentacle or Triquetra necklace. It was very much akin to say that someone’d found their calling, in terms of a career path, but at the same Time, it was totally different. When something like one of those necklaces or that deck of Tarot cards Called, that was ’cuz it’d something to offer whoever it was Calling to. Whether that was Protection, advice, or any other number of things, she couldn’t exactly say without knowing the entire situation that led up to a person getting such a Call.

Considering how and why they’d even met in the first place, and that she’d been the one to give her the deck last week, Siren was certain the Tarot was Calling with the Intent to impart some Wisdom. She might have a talent for using it that she’d never known she possessed, or it might be trying to use her as its vessel to simply impart something more on Bobby’s situation. Her advice was that–after making a quick trip to see her for a few things again–she give it a shot, ’cuz doing a Tarot reading was pretty much harmless in comparison to using a _Ouija_ board.

_ “With the Tarot, you’re tapping solely into the collective Unconscious_–_it’s really no different than any other form of Scrying or Divination,”_ she told her.

“Why’d ya single out the _Ouija_ board, though?” Mishy asked curiously.

_ “’Cuz those things_ are _flat-out dangerous_–_I don’t care who ya are, or how much supposed experience ya have,”_ the young Witch answered.

“I’m actually scared to ask,” she admitted, biting back a whimper.

_ “Those who employ the_ Ouija _often open Portals and Vortices to other Realms that’re often hard or impossible to close again,”_ Siren explained. _“Howddaya think a lotta folks wind up suffering from demonic possession?”_

The young ginger winced, the noise she made audible on the other End of the line.

_ “Demons’re major tricksters_–_they’d take on the Energy, form, and shape of just about anyone or anything,”_ she continued. _“Let’s say ya were to use the board ’cuz Bobby’d recently died and ya wanted to contact his Spirit for one last goodbye. It might not be his Spiritcha wind up in contact with, but rather a demon masquerading as him, which could be catastrophic, especially with a baby in the house.”_

“Which’s why you’re advising against a _Ouija_ board,” Mishy said, starting to get why she thought they were downright heinous.

_ “Not just advising against it_–warning _against it,”_ the young Witch corrected her. _“I’ve seen a few Air Witches_–_who generally have the strongest Affinity for ’em_–_use those damn things and go from being what we call White Witches to Warlocks in almost nothing flat.”_

“What’s a White Witch, though?” she asked, not quite getting that part.

Siren told her that to be a White Witch, one practiced _White magick_–generally something along the lines of Healing, and _always_ with the consent of whoever they were practicing it for or on. Warlocks were the ones who practiced _Black magick,_ which was almost always Destructive, sacrificial, and used for the betterment of oneself. Pagans didn’t use the term _Black Witch,_ ’cuz once one crossed into the _Black,_ they’d essentially sold their Souls and weren’t any bit of the Witch they’d once been–they were a monster residing in that Witch’s shell, as it were.

Gray Witches like herself were a totally different breed, but at the same Time, they were more like the White Witches than they weren’t. In _Gray magick,_ they generally leaned more toward the Lighter side, but they could also toe that line between _Gray_ and _Black_–not to mention cross–a lot easier. Their Intent upon starting a spell was almost always good, like winding up with a shade Tree on a hot Day, but came with a bit of bad–such as that shade Tree being a Coconut Tree that dropped its fruit on their head. Obviously, no White Witch’d Intend to harm anyone by having that Coconut drop on someone’s head, but it was a potential Danger that came with the work they were doing.

Now that she’d been told that much, Mishy wasn’t quite as scared of paying her another visit like she wanted her to, but she was still a bit wary. Laughing, the young Witch told her that she’d to have the utmost Confidence in herself once she got back and started her reading, but erring on the side of Caution was always a good thing. In fact, that was why she wanted her to visit her again–so she could get a few pre-Charged protective items to help her.

“All right–so, what’s all this stuff?” she asked once she’d arrived at the young Witch’s house.

“First of all, two of the simplest things to use–a white and black Candle,” Siren answered. “White to invite positivity and maintain Purity, black to absorb and Banish negativity.”

“Do they’ve to be lit at the same Time?” the young ginger asked.

“Not necessarily–unlike what a Satanic rite’d have ya believe, lighting just the black Candle ain’t necessarily evil,” she answered. “It’s all in the Intent, and the Energy ya empower it with beforehand.”

“Wait, really?” Mishy asked, sounding surprised.

_ “Mmm hmm,”_ the young Witch hummed, nodding. “And since I’ve already empowered it with the Intent to Banish negativity, not invite it in, that’s exactly what it’ll do–Banish any negativity in the area while it’s lit.”

“So, what about these two?” she asked, pointing to the other two Candles.

“Silver and Gold for the Goddess and the God, respectively,” Siren answered. “Silver’s been seen as the Metal of the Goddess, Gold as the Metal of the God, for Centuries and even Millennia. They’ll help with just about any endeavor, as long as one’s respectful and has the Intent to actually use their _advice,_ rather than demand they hand ’em what they’re wanting on a Silver platter, so to speak.”

“Okay, then,” the young ginger said thoughtfully.

“Now, as for all these tumbled Stones that no doubt look like polished pebbles to ya,” she continued, picking up what she was talking about and dropping it into a sachet as she named each Stone. “Amethyst’s been used in far more than Royal jewels for Millennia. Most often, it’s used for Calming, relaxing, psychic Protection, Healing, etc.”

The young Witch went on to say that the next two were Hematite and Jet, and while they were used for many different things, the Intent here was to be used for Protection. After that one came a blue Stone that looked like it was the Color of the Sky with white Clouds drifting through it. She said that it was called Larimar, and it was used for Guidance, Healing, Clarity, Harmony, and for its positive Energy, which could be good for her. After all, she didn’t have any experience with doing Tarot readings, so it could help get the answer to whatever question she asked of the cards.

Mishy listened as she continued with a solid black one she said was Obsidian, which was used for Protection, removing negativity, Healing, and Scrying, among plenty of other things. After that came a clear one that looked more like hand-blown glass, but was really Clear Quartz–which was said to store and amplify Energy, not to mention Protect and Heal.

Up next was Golden Quartz, which was used for Healing and Scrying Primarily, but also for other reasons. Gold Sunstone–which appeared to’ve lil flecks of Metal in it–was used for focusing, Power, Inner Peace, and Strength. Red Tiger’s-Eye was commonly used for motivation, Protection, good Luck, Prosperity, and Power, which were all things the young ginger could use in this endeavor. The things Sapphire was used for that she wanted her to focus on this Time were the Protection and mental Clarity, which’d help her reading be even clearer. After that was another piece that looked like hand-blown glass but was actually Smoky Quartz, mostly for Grounding and Patience.

As she got to the last few, Siren picked up a mottled-looking green Stone that reminded her of a marble cake. She said it was Malachite, and it was typically used for clearing mental blocks, Healing the heart, and bringing true Love. However, there was another reason she was giving it to her that she’d get to once they were all bagged up. Rounding out the list was Ruby, which was generally used for Integrity, Happiness, Prosperity, Love, Healing, and protecting the home.

“Now, there’s another reason I’m giving ya this chunk of Malachite and Ruby,” the young Witch told her. “Most folks dunno this, so it’s not quite as common a use.”

“Then lay it on me,” Mishy said, her attention focused solely on her.

“When those who can actually use a _Ouija_ board safely do so, they keep at least two of three things nearby at all Times,” she Began. “Those white and black Candles, Malachite, and/or Ruby. I already told ya what the Candles’re for–Malachite’ll crack, Ruby’ll Darken when there’s an overabundance of negative Energy.”

The young ginger’s eyes widened in surprise as she listened.

“I’m not saying you’re gonna be using a _Ouija_ board this Time, but I wantcha to use those Stones the way ya would, if ya were,” Siren told her. “If ya see a crack in the Malachite, or notice that the Ruby’s turned Darker, End it and call me–there’s too much negativity there for ya to handle on your own.”

“So, it’s basically supposed to be kinda like a Fire alarm?” she asked.

“That’s a good way to think of it, yeah,” the young Witch answered, nodding. “The Malachite cracking and/or Ruby Darkening can kinda be like your Energetic Fire alarm since you’re even less experienced than Marina.”

“I guess that makes sense,” Mishy agreed. “Better to play it safe than sorry since I’ll admit I dunno what the hell I’m doing–I’m just going by what you’re telling me to do.”

She couldn’t help another laugh, again making it clear that she wasn’t trying to make fun of her since her mother’d once done the same thing to her as a Witchling. However, that brought to mind something else she could give her, as long as she could either do her reading outside or wherever she was gonna be was well-ventilated.

Digging through what she called her _Craft Cabinet_ for a few moments turned up what looked like a bundle of dried herbs that was tied together with a purple ribbon. Pressing it into the young ginger’s hand, she said it was a Smudge stick that she’d made, herself outta a few different herbs grown in her own garden. That garnered her a cocked brow, ’cuz again, her impromptu student didn’t know the first thing about any form of Witchcraft. Letting out another laugh, she gladly explained what Smudging was and how to go about it so that it was done safely.

“Smudging’s actually an Ancient Native American practice,” Siren explained. “Most often, it’s done with Sage–particularly White Sage–and/or Cedar as its base herb, but plenty of others can be mixed in for various reasons.”

“So, what all’s in this Smudge stick?” she asked curiously.

“White Sage, which’s used for Cleansing, Purification, Protection, Healing, and _Wish magick,”_ the young Witch answered. “It shares its place as the base herb with Cedar, which the Native Americans tend to use just as often–if not in place of–White Sage for pretty much the same reasons.”

“I swear I smell something kinda sweet and flowery in it, though,” Mishy mused, sniffing the bundle of herbs curiously.

“That’d be the Lavender, which Air Witches use for Protection when using a _Ouija_ board and is believed to help one contact the Spirit World when it’s carried,” she chuckled. “You’re kinda, sorta contacting the Spirit World by doing a Tarot reading, but not the same way you’d assume by dragging out a _Ouija_ board or conducting a _séance.”_

“I guess that makes sense,” the ginger said, nodding.

“There’s also Lilac in there to drive away negative Influences,” Siren continued. “That could be anything from a pissed-off, Earthbound human Spirit in the area to something more like a demon, if it’s not actually a demon.”

“Wow, people can actually wind up stuck on Earth after they die?” she asked, surprised.

“Well, wouldn’t _you,_ if ya died tragically and suddenly, especially if it was something like a murder and ya were seeking Justice for your untimely Death?” the young Witch countered, her brow cocked. “And wouldn’tcha be pissed off the whole Time thatcha were pushing up Daises, but your killer was running free to kill again, if they so Wished?”

“Eh, point taken,” Mishy said, sounding a bit sheepish.

The final thing that she reached into her _Craft Cabinet_ for was what looked like some kinda dish, a baggie of Sand, and another drawstring bag. Opening it and waving it under her nose so she could catch a whiff, she said that it was a type of Incense called Dragon’s Blood. In its resin form like it was in this bag, it was a protective Power booster that promoted feelings of well-being and Love.

As she took the final items from her and settled them in the medium-sized chest she’d pulled out for her, she couldn’t help her surge of Confidence. With all these forms of Protection, she didn’t see how reading a Tarot deck could possibly go wrong and hurt even herself, let alone anyone else in the house or otherwise on the property. Even though Siren swore doing a Tarot reading didn’t necessarily need all these forms of Protection, she’d still given them to her, anywhore. It was better to play it safe with someone who was totally inexperienced, and Mishy couldn’t help but trust her judgment since she claimed to’ve been a Witch since childhood.

Making her way back out to the spare car she’d _borrowed_ from Rikki, she took a few deep breaths as she settled the chest in the back floorboard. Siren told her not to worry about Returning any of what she’d given her for a couple different reasons, which made her cock a brow. Firstly, keeping them for Future use was always a good idea, and secondly, she didn’t want anything she used in her own spell work to be tainted from another’s use. That might cause her spells to backfire in any number of horrid ways, so it was best to start with fresh materials instead of reusing these.

Climbing into the driver’s seat, the young ginger couldn’t help but admit–if only to herself–that she certainly had a point. She doubted she’d wanna reuse something that was half-used by someone else either, so she didn’t exactly blame her for that. Taking another deep breath, she fired up the car so she could head back to what’d become her home recently before anyone started worrying. Hopefully, trying her hand at a Tarot reading’d go just as well as when the young Witch’d done it last week.


	13. Twelve

In Rikki’s back yard, Mishy’d carried the chest given to her by the young Witch to the smaller patio in the back corner across from the End of the pool where the hot tub was. She hadn’t wanted to be too close to the back door, just in case she was still in the middle of her attempt at a Tarot reading when they got up. Given that the boys’d been sick with a chest cold and bronchitis so recently, she didn’t wanna take the risk of the drummer bringing them outside and them being almost immediately bombarded by Smoke from the Smudge stick.

Following the written instructions she’d also been given, she started setting up the round dining table that’d been put on this smaller patio. She didn’t need the giant one that was under the Ivy-covered pergola and closer to the back door for what she was doing. Even though it was certainly smaller, this table was big enough for her purposes–not to mention Circular and easier to work with.

Wanting to at least try Honoring the Elements like Siren’d done, the young ginger decided to use the Stones she’d been given to mark the Cardinal Directions. She remembered her saying that green represented Earth, yellow represented Air, red represented Fire, and blue represented Water. To that End, she decided on Malachite to the North, Golden Quartz to the East, Red Tiger’s-Eye to the South, and Larimar to the West. Mishy couldn’t say why she felt those were the best ones to go with, but at least they represented the Elements and were in the proper places since she didn’t have any Candles of the corresponding Colors.

After that was done, she set up the Sand dish closer to the Northern point than she did the dead Center of the table. Even though these Tarot cards were a bit on the small side, the spread she was about to attempt’d take up quite a bit of room. She didn’t want anything that wasn’t supposed to be set ablaze, even though it wasn’t like she’d burn the house down, if that happened. Her gut feeling was that taking care of these cards was something she _had_ to do, so she didn’t wanna accidentally burn them.

“Please Bless my efforts and reveal to me what I Wish to See,” the young ginger whispered as she lit the piece of charcoal she’d been given.

She didn’t know why she felt the need to say that as she blew on it so it’d flare up and burn down to its gray state, but she did. It was almost instinctive, like it was something she knew to the very marrow of her bones’d to be done, but she couldn’t say why. Not letting it bug her and potentially ruin her attempt, she simply shrugged as she grabbed the Smudge stick so she could get it to burning.

Glad she knew how to use Bobby’s Zippo without hurting herself, Mishy held the fatter End of the bundled herbs to the open Flame. At first, it almost seemed like it wasn’t gonna do anything besides char the outside black, and she almost gave up on it. When she least expected it, though, the herbs flared bright, and pulling the lighter away revealed that it was certainly ablaze. Even though she didn’t move a muscle, that Flame burnt itself out and died away, but to her surprised pleasure, the bundle kept releasing a pleasantly-scented Smoke.

The young ginger settled the skinny End of it in the Sand so it’d stand up without her having to hold it upright, and she couldn’t help a smile. Moving on when she saw that the charcoal was burnt down, she dropped a few pieces of the Dragon’s Blood resin on it. This scent wasn’t quite as nice as that of the Smudge stick, but she supposed it could grow on her, if she were exposed to it enough. After that came dumping out the other tumbled Stones she’d been given into their own pile in front of the dish.

“What on Earth made my husband wake up as a baby again, and howddawe get him back to normal?” Mishy asked, finally shuffling the Tarot cards.

Taking a deep breath as she glanced down at the notebook Siren’d written her instructions in, she started dealing them according to the pattern she’d also drawn. Like the young Witch’d done last week, she laid the first card so that it was vertical, then the second horizontally atop it. After that, the third card was laid at the edge of the table closest to her with enough Space in between it and the first two for the fourth card.

Pulling the fifth card from the shuffled deck, the young ginger laid it vertically on the other side of the first two so it mimicked the fourth card’s position. She then laid the sixth card to their left, careful to leave enough room for the seventh between it and the first two. The eighth and ninth cards went to the right, and she was finally able to see the cross pattern that’d been drawn out for her.

From there, the tenth through thirteenth cards went in a straight line further to the right, the tenth at the bottom and the thirteenth at the top. Another deep breath was taken and released as she reached forward to lay the rest of the deck aside where it wouldn’t be in her way. Part of her was more than a bit apprehensive–maybe even downright scared–to start flipping over the dealt cards and see what came up. There was another part of her that was ever as determined to figure out the Mystery currently surrounding her husband, and that was what made her start flipping cards.

“Looks like the three of one of the suits–maybe Swords?” she murmured after flipping over the first card. “No, wait–that looks more like a Wand than a Sword.”

Flipping over the second card almost made her stomach drop till she remembered the meaning Siren’d given them the previous week.

“Just ’cuz it’s the Devil doesn’t necessarily mean evil’s at play here,” Mishy reminded herself as she reached for the third card.

This pattern continued till she’d flipped over the final card, which was another one she recognized from the week previous. It seemed that she’d gotten a lil bit of everything from the _Major Arcana_ and all but one of the four suits, ’cuz there wasn’t an anything of Pentacles in sight. Maybe that was a good thing, maybe it wasn’t, but she needed her notebook to find out for sure since some cards weren’t familiar to her.

“Okay, so my first card’s the Three of Wands and it’s upside-down, meaning it’s reversed,” the young ginger muttered to herself. “That means there’s obstacles, delays, frustration, etc.”

Huffing as she blew her hair outta her face, she rolled her eyes.

“Well, no shit there’s all those things,” Mishy grumbled. “I’d say my husband being a toddler’s quite the obstacle, not to mention frustrating for all of us.”

Her second card was the Devil upright, which she remembered eluded to addiction, materialism, and playfulness, among other things. Flipping back a couple pages in her notebook reminded her that the first card represented the core of the situation, and the second was the situation’s enhancing and diminishing Influences. That meant that–given the way Poison was–addiction was most likely the root cause for Bobby waking up as a baby, although whose addiction was unclear.

After that came the third card, which said it was the Chariot, and it was also in its reversed state since it was upside-down. That meant there was a lack of Control and Direction, likely some aggression in there, too, according to Siren’s notes. Considering where it’d turned up in the spread, that meant those were the Spiritual Forces working with Bobby’s Unconscious.

Next was the fourth card, which was representative of how those Spiritual Forces worked for the best of the Planet’s needs. It said it was Strength, and with it being reversed, it meant Self-doubt, weakness, and insecurity–which was quite the surprise to her. If there was anything Mishy never woulda said to describe the peanut-sized bassist, no matter his physical state, it was those three things. Shaking her head to clear it, she moved on to the fifth card, which was supposed to mean the Spiritual Forces Influencing the Conscious mind. That was the Ace of Wands and upright, which meant it was talking about Creation, Willpower, Inspiration, and desire.

“Well, no shit,” she sighed. “If only ’cuz he’s a strong desire to Return to normal right now.”

“Mishy–the hell’re ya doing?”

Looking up, she saw Rikki approaching with Zach in his arms, the husband in question toddling along beside him. “Trying my hand at this Tarot thing, ’cuz trying to ignore the deck was starting to drive me nuts.”

“The hell’s all this stuff?” he asked, seeing what was on the table alongside the deck, both drawn and undrawn cards.

“Some stuff Siren gave me earlier to help with this,” the young ginger answered. “I called her before I bothered pulling the deck outta that baggie it was in, and she told me to head to her place for a bit.”

“Okay–just seems like a bunch of rocks, even if the other stuff actually smells kinda good,” Rikki chuckled, settling in one of the chairs.

“She told me what all of them are and what they’re used for, but I can’t remember it all right now,” she laughed. “Just do me a favor, if you’re gonna stay out here.”

“What’s that?” the drummer asked, cocking a brow curiously.

“Keep your eyes on the green one right in front of ya, and this red one,” Mishy answered, pointing out the piece of Ruby.

_ “Oooo…kaaaay,”_ he agreed, obviously sounding confused.

“Siren told me that when those who can actually do it safely use a _Ouija_ board, they generally keep Malachite and/or Ruby with them when they do,” the young ginger explained. “The Malachite’ll crack and the Ruby’ll get Darker, if there’s an overabundance of negative Energy.”

“And since you’re obviously not using a _Ouija_ board–not that I’d letcha, ’cuz those things’re pure evil–she’s wanting ya to use them kinda like an alarm,” Rikki said, Enlightenment Dawning.

“Exactly,” she agreed, nodding. “She told me that if the Malachite cracks and/or the Ruby Darkens, End this shit and call her, ’cuz there’s too much negativity for me to handle on my own.”

“Well, I’m not seeing any cracks, but you’d know if the other one’s Darker than it should be,” the drummer told her.

“It’s not,” Mishy chuckled after studying it for a moment. “It’s the same shade it was when I laid it down.”

“Then what’ve ya found out from these jokers so far?” he asked.

The young ginger gladly brought them up to speed on the first five cards she’d drawn and their meanings, as per how they’d been once she flipped them over. Even Bobby was listening Intently, some of her explanations making him huff around his paci as if agreeing with her assessment on the meaning having been pretty obvious thus far.

Once they’d been brought up to speed, she put her finger on the sixth card, which she told them was representative of the distant Past. In its reversed state, it was indicating shattered Dreams, broken family, and domestic disharmony, but there was prolly more to it. The peanut-sized bassist’s eyes widened and he suckled his paci anxiously, knowing exactly what that card and all the meanings currently applied to it were eluding to. He’d never once told his wife or his band mates that the guy he called _Dad_ wasn’t actually his father, but rather his stepfather.

Not noticing her husband’s distress yet, Mishy pointed to the seventh card, which she said was supposed to be representative of the recent Past. Just like the eighth card last week, it was the Four of Wands reversed, which eluded to a lack of support, transience, and home conflicts. All of that was true since even Rikki knew he felt unsupported in more ways that one, had plenty of problems at home, and a tour could kinda be akin to a transient moving from one place to another.

After that was this week’s eighth card, which was supposed to be representative of the near Future, according to Siren’s notes. With it being upright, that was supposed to mean it was eluding to friendship, community, and Happiness. Maybe that meant it was talking about Bobby making new friends or Strengthening bonds with old ones, which’d no doubt be his community and bring him Happiness. His eyes lit up at that Thought as she moved her finger to the ninth card, which was representative of the distant Future. The Ace of Swords being upright eluded to a breakthrough and sharp mind alongside Clarity, the last of which even she felt like they were starting to get.

“The tenth card’s supposed to be the overall opinion of the situation,” Mishy told them, her right index finger moving to the card in question. “It’s the Nine of Swords, and being reversed, it’s supposed to mean Hope, reaching out, despair, etc.”

“I think we’d all be idiots, if we said that Bobby wasn’t reaching out and didn’t have Hope that he’d Return to normal, but was starting to despair that he wouldn’t,” the drummer mused.

Bobby nodded vigorously, paci moving as he suckled it again.

“The eleventh card’s supposed to represent what’s interacting with the situation,” she continued. “We got the Two of Cups as the third card last week, and it was reversed then just like it is now.”

“So, that’s supposed to mean that imbalance, broken Communication, and tension’re supposed to be a big part of this mess, right?” Rikki asked.

“That’s how I’m taking it,” the young ginger answered, nodding. “The twelfth card’s supposed to be the overall desire for the outcome.”

Even the peanut-sized bassist rolled his eyes at that one, ’cuz they all knew he wanted to get back to normal.

“According to Siren’s notes, Death doesn’t mean Bobby’s gonna die,” she told them. “When it’s upright like it is now, it’s supposed to mean the End of a Cycle, Beginnings, Change, a metamorphosis.”

“That could mean anything from him Returning to normal to a major Change in the band, though,” the drummer said.

“No shit,” Mishy chuckled, moving her finger to the final card. “The thirteenth and final card in this version of the _Celtic Cross_ spread’s supposed to be representative of what the final outcome’ll bring forth, everything else taken into consideration.”

“All right, so lay it on us,” he told her. “’Cuz I swear we got that card last week.”

“And you’re right–we _did_ get the World as the final card in Siren’s ten-card _Celtic Cross,”_ the young ginger laughed. “Being upright again, it’s supposed to mean fulfillment, Harmony, and completion.”

“Lemme see if I’ve this straight, then,” Rikki said thoughtfully. “What both Tarot readings’re supposed to be saying’s that it’s a lotta shit from Bobby’s recent Past–likely with his marriage and the band–that got him stuck like this, but there’s some shit from even his childhood that fed into it?”

“That’s what I’m thinking,” she answered, nodding. “And that only working on those things, both in the near and distant Future, is gonna Return him to normal with quite a few valuable lessons learned along the way.”

“Well, write this shit down–or hell, I’ll even take a Polaroid of it,” the drummer told her. “I kinda wanna get Siren’s opinion on it and see what she thinks before we just assume that’s what we’re supposed to be taking away from it.”

Nodding, Mishy agreed with that course of action as much as the peanut-sized bassist did, gladly taking Zach so he could run inside for his camera. Even as she snuggled her son against her, his daddy looking kinda jealous where he sat, she picked up a pen and started writing down the results of her Tarot reading. She wanted to be damn sure they knew what card was what once the picture’d been taken when they told the young Witch the results.

If they were right in their guess about what the results of this Tarot reading combined with the first one were supposed to mean, maybe they could get Bobby back to normal sooner, rather than later. The hard part’d be actually getting him to open up about anything that was on his mind and most likely contributing to why this’d happened in the first place.


	14. Thirteen

Before they could even get the boys strapped into their car seat and carrier, Rikki and Mishy were distracted by another car pulling into the driveway. It turned out to be Bret, who was madder than hell and ready to fight, if the look on his face was anything to judge by. Sighing as he paused in opening his car door, the drummer begged for an ounce of unspent Patience, his friend gripping his shirt from where he was riding on his hip.

The frontman cocked a brow as he closed his own car door, wondering what the quartet was up to since he’d been told Bobby and Zach’d been sick recently. He figured maybe they were off to another doctor’s appointment to make sure they were recovering properly–till he noticed the Wooden chest at the ginger’s feet.

“Where on Earth’re ya guys off to?” he asked curiously.

“The home of a new friend,” the drummer answered. “We kinda need her take on something so we don’t just assume the wrong thing.”

“Really, now?” Bret looked surprised, as well as curiously confused. “Doesn’t have anything to do with the band, does it?”

“Actually, it might have _everything_ to do with the band,” Mishy said, settling her son’s carrier into its base. “That’s exactly _why_ we want her opinion before we just run with it, though.”

“Personally, I think Bret oughta tag along,” Rikki mused. “Maybe he’ll learn something new–and that’s if we all don’t learn something new.”

“Guess it depends on where you’re going,” he told them. “I mean, I just got a call about C that we kinda need to talk about since what I got told could very well Destroy this band.”

“Then get back in your car and just follow us unless ya think ya can squeeze between two car seats,” the drummer laughed.

“We can always throw him in the trunk instead,” his friend’s wife giggled as she straightened.

“Oh, yeah right–like that wouldn’t look suspicious _at all_ for me to come crawling outta the trunk when we finally stopped!” Bret crowed with a grin.

“That’s assuming we letcha out at all, depending on how noisy ya get back there,” he shot back with a grin of his own.

Rolling his eyes, the frontman managed to squeeze himself past Bobby’s car seat, which was positioned behind his wife’s seat. It was a bit of a tight squeeze, even though all of Poison was pretty skinny, but not one he couldn’t handle for the few minutes they’d be driving to their destination and back. Once he was settled since he didn’t bother with a seat belt, Rikki leaned down to get their friend strapped in, the peanut-sized bassist just suckling his paci as he let him.

With everybody in the car, he backed outta the driveway since Bret’d parked beside him and aimed them for Sherman Oaks. Mishy’d already called the young Witch to let her know they were coming, but they hadn’t bothered going back in to call again and let her know they’d a plus-one now. Then again, she’d seemed like she’d known they were on their way the first Time they went to her house, so maybe she’d already _Know_ about that part. Her daughter’d claimed that happened with even stupid stuff, like Knowing she’d snuck a cookie right before dinner, after all.

Bret couldn’t help but be kinda underwhelmed by the house they pulled up at about ten minutes later as the drummer parked. It reminded him of his childhood home in a lotta ways, but at the same Time, he’d gotten used to a lot fancier things in recent Years. Considering that he owned a nearby mansion that was completely decked out, maybe he needed to come back to his roots, so to speak.

The front door was flung open before they could even get Bobby and Zach outta the back seat, lil Marina running down to help them as her mother waited in the doorway. Rikki and Mishy both waved to the young Witch, who Returned the wave as she watched their friend unfold himself from the back seat once the peanut-sized bassist was riding the taller blonde’s hip again. Her daughter giggled as she closed the car door while he was stretching his legs, one of which she grabbed in a tight hug as she cried a single word that took all of the visitors by surprise. None of them were expecting her to grin up at the shorter blonde as she called him _Daddy,_ which made all their eyes widen.

“In the house, Marina,” Siren called. “We’ll talk about that in a lil bit.”

“Okay, Mommy!” she giggled, letting go of his leg and running back inside.

“What the hell was that about?” Bret asked, shocked and dumbfounded.

“Like I said, we’ll get into that in a lil bit,” the young Witch repeated. “Rikki and Mishy need my help with something, and I’d rather get that taken care of first.”

Unable to really argue with that, he simply shrugged as he followed his friends into her house.

“So, that attempt at a Tarot reading worked for ya, huh?” she asked once they were inside, the front door closed.

“Wait, Tarot?” the frontman asked. “Ain’t that like some kinda Gypsy Fortune-telling crap?”

“While Gypsies and other eccentric folk like ’em _do_ use the Tarot, it ain’t crap,” Siren shot back. “It can actually come in quite a bit of handy when one knows what they’re doing–or someone else who does, in Mishy’s case.”

“Yeah, and to answer your question, I think it did,” said ginger told her, nodding. “I got a couple of the same cards as last week, or I wouldn’t think that it did.”

Siren looked curious as she led them to where she’d gone to check on her daughter the week previous, which revealed that it was, in fact a cozier living Space and the kitchen.

“If ya can’t actually tell what they are, Mishy wrote them down before we came over here,” the drummer said, pulling his Polaroid outta the chest once he’d set Bobby down in the floor.

Taking the carefully-taken picture from him, she studied it for a moment. “Three of Wands reversed, the Devil upright, the Chariot reversed, Strength reversed, Ace of Wands upright, Ten of Cups reversed, Four of Wands reversed, Three of Cups upright, Ace of Swords upright, Nine of Swords reversed, Two of Cups reversed, Death upright, and the World upright,” she said.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Mishy said, double-checking what she’d written down.

“I told ya, I’ve been doing this since I was younger than Marina,” the young Witch chuckled as she handed the picture back. “I can identify my Tarot cards, even when others can’t.”

“But what’s all that supposed to mean?” Bret asked. “Especially shit like the Devil and Death since that’s not exactly good shit in my mind.”

Gesturing to the couch and love seat, Siren started explaining what the _Major Arcana_ and the suits were as she moved into the kitchen. She knew it was best to bring him up to speed before she started explaining each of those individual cards, not to mention their upright and reversed meanings. Luckily, the shorter blonde caught on pretty quick, and she was able to move on to those individual cards just as quick.

That led her into explaining the results of the Tarot reading she’d done for them the week previous as she came back over with three glasses held between her hands. The frontman was more than a bit surprised as he put everything together and realized that two different people–one of who didn’t even really know Bobby–had gotten pretty much the same results. He was apparently supposed to fix his broken Communication and fill the rifts that’d formed between not only himself and his band mates, but the rest of them in order to Return to normal.

Bret didn’t really think there were any rifts between him and the rest of the guys as he sipped the glass of Water he’d been given. Then again, Communication wasn’t exactly something any of them were good at outside songwriting, or there wouldn’t have been a handful of fistfights over the Years. He was distracted from those Thoughts, though, when the lil girl climbed into his lap and reached up.

“So pretty,” she said, sounding Awed as he felt her fingers against his throat.

“Leave his necklace alone, Marina,” Siren told her, shooting her a look.

“I don’t really care if she looks at it,” the frontman chuckled, reaching behind his neck. “Although, I’ll admit that I’d rather she lemme take it off first before she chokes me.”

Marina giggled as her mother rolled her eyes.

“Don’t break it,” the young Witch said. “Even I can tell that’s real Turquoise from back here, and I’m not paying to replace it.”

“I’m not gon’ break it, Mommy–promise!” Marina swore as she took the strand of beads from him.

“Course, I guess I’m kinda curious about why she’s fascinated by a necklace unless she just likes the Color,” Bret admitted.

“If ya haven’t figured it out, we’re both Witches,” she told him. “No doubt she’s practicing how to read Energy as we speak.”

“Wait a minute–what?” the frontman asked, more than a bit stunned.

“Hey, if a Witch who can read Tarot cards helps us get Bobby back to normal sooner rather than later, I’m willing to try it,” Rikki interjected, the peanut-sized bassist nodding from where he sat in the floor with his son.

“And you’re not terrified of her casting a spell on ya?” he shot back, a hand drifting up to clutch the cross that was also around his neck.

“We don’t do that!” Marina groused before he could even answer. “Only bad Witches do that, and that makes ’em Warlocks, not Witches!”

“They’re only Warlocks, if they dive into the _Black,”_ her mother reminded her. “But she’s right–we don’t cast spells on others ’cuz I prefer doing spell work for only myself, and I’m raising her to be the same way.”

Bret still looked skeptical, even as he stared into the Emerald eyes staring at him from across the room with an intensity like he’d never felt before. He couldn’t help his surprise when their owner moved across the room to a certain curio cabinet, quickly opening the door before pulling something out and closing it again.

Mishy knew from when she’d come over earlier that afternoon that she’d gone to her _Craft Cabinet,_ and that it was likely she’d gotten out the Tarot cards she’d used last week. After all, the bundle in her hand looked eerily similar to the baggie the deck she’d given her looked when the cards were actually in it. Something told her that the frontman was about to get an impromptu reading, and prolly ’cuz she’d started picking up on something. What that something was exactly, even the young ginger didn’t know as she watched her suspicion be confirmed.

Even Rikki wasn’t surprised when the shorter blonde half-freaked and refused to let her do a reading on him at first. He hadn’t ever been exposed to that kinda thing, so it all creeped him out, and being raised in a Christian household didn’t help that. He’d readily admit that Siren’d freaked him out at first, too, but after she’d picked up on things she couldn’t have possibly known last week–well, he wasn’t necessarily a full believer, but he didn’t exactly doubt her, either.

“Dude, I’ll let her do a reading on me first, if that’ll getcha to let her do one on you,” he told him.

“Are ya outta your mind, man?” Bret asked, those blue eyes wide as he stared at him.

“Well, she did one on Bobby last week, and ya don’t see _him_ any worse for wear, do ya?” the drummer countered.

All eyes turned to the peanut-sized bassist, who shrugged one shoulder and suckled his paci as he snuggled baby Zach.

“Hey, I don’t feel the need to prove my abilities, but I’m game,” she said with a shrug of her own.

They all watched as she shuffled the cards in her hands, then started dealing them out on the coffee table she knelt next to. Mishy was the only one besides her who recognized it as the thirteen-card _Celtic Cross_ spread, and that was only ’cuz she’d just used it earlier. The drummer thought it looked similar to the way she’d dealt her Tarot cards last week, but he wasn’t exactly sure.

With the thirteen cards she needed dealt into her spread of choice, Siren laid the rest of the deck aside further down the coffee table. Like she’d done the week previous, she held down the second card as she grabbed the edge of the first and pulled it free. Once it was flipped, she laid it back down and repeated the process before moving on to the third card and continuing till all thirteen were flipped face-up. Her guests watched Intently, their eyes rising back up to her face as she started to explain this spread’s meaning to the guys.

“The first card’s the core of the situation, while the second’s the enhancing and diminishing Influences on said situation,” the young Witch explained. “Third’s the Spiritual Forces at work on the Unconscious mind, fourth’s how those Forces work for the best of the Planet’s needs, and fifth’s the Spiritual Influences on the Conscious mind.”

“All right, makes sense so far,” Bret grudgingly said as he nodded.

“Six-through-nine’re the distant and recent Past, and the near and distant Future,” Siren continued. “Ten’s the overall opinion of the situation, eleven’s what’s interacting with it, twelve’s the overall desire for the outcome, and thirteen’s what the final outcome’ll bring forth, all else considered.”

“Why thirteen cards, though?” the frontman asked. “Thirteen’s an unlucky number.”

“Not to a Witch like me,” she told him. “Thirteen represents the number of Full Moons in a Year, which ties back to the Goddess via her _Mother_ aspect.”

The young Witch knew they were all confused about that part, but said it was another one of those things she’d get into later.

“Starting with the first card, we’ve the Two of Cups reversed,” Siren started, her finger resting on the card in question. “That means that imbalance, broken Communication, and tension’re all at the core of Rikki’s problem.”

“That was one that Bobby got both Times,” the young Ginger mused.

“I’m blaming that on Deanna and the issues I’ve been having with her,” he said, shrugging. “I feel like she just won’t talk to me, no matter how hard I try.”

“Moving on to the second card, the Devil upright,” the young Witch continued. “That means that addiction, materialism, and playfulness’re the Primary things Influencing his situation.”

From there, she moved her finger to the third card, which happened to be the Four of Wands reversed. That meant that a lack of support, transience, and home conflicts were the Spiritual Forces at work on his Unconscious mind, much like they were for Bobby. Her hand then drifted up just a couple inches so her finger was resting on the fourth card, the Lovers reversed. That was to be taken as a loss of Balance, one-sidedness, and disharmony being how those Forces were working for the best of the Planet’s needs. Considering the relationship issues he’d hinted at with the first card, she wasn’t exactly surprised by that and thought his reading was eluding to his Love Life more than anything.

Moving on to the fifth card, she told them that it was the Hermit upright, which was the Spiritual Forces Influencing his Conscious mind. That meant that he was contemplating a lotta different things and seeking Inner Guidance, as well as searching for the Truth. Now whether that Truth revolved around his relationship, what was going on with the peanut-sized bassist, or both, she couldn’t say.

The sixth card was the Sun upright, which Siren reminded them referenced his distant Past, likely all the way back to childhood. With it being upright, it eluded to Joy, Success, celebration, and positivity, and Rikki couldn’t help a chuckle as he thought about how his childhood had certainly encompassed all those things and so much more. She reminded them of the seventh card representing his recent Past as she moved her finger to it, then told them it was the Ten of Cups reversed. What that was supposed to mean was shattered Dreams, broken family, and domestic disharmony, and in many ways.

After that came the eighth card, which was the Six of Swords upright, and eluded to him facing some kinda Transition, leaving something behind and moving on. Given that he’d recently been feeling like he and Deanna were soon to split up, he could see that predicting the near Future on his Love Life, for sure. Next was the Five of Pentacles reversed, which meant recovery, charity, and improvement, but in regards to what, she couldn’t say.

“That could elude to any number of things–your physical, mental, and Emotional Health, some kinda financial loss that you’ll recoup eventually, just about anything,” Siren said.

“And since that card’s supposed to represent the distant Future, that means that whatever it’s talking about is a good ways off,” the drummer mused, nodding as he mulled it over.

_ “Mmm hmm,”_ the young Witch hummed, moving her finger to the tenth card. “Now, we’ve the Nine of Wands upright–that’s supposed to mean resilience, grit, and a last stand, if you’ll recall.”

“That’s another one Bobby got last week,” Mishy said thoughtfully. “Which means that, as the overall opinion here, Rikki’ll make it through whatever he’s in the middle of and still has yet to face.”

“Exactly,” she agreed with a nod of her own. “The eleventh card–which represents what’s interacting with the situation–is the Three of Wands reversed. That means he’s facing obstacles, delays, and frustration, whether his situation involves Bobby or not.”

“And ya said twelve’s supposed to be the overall desire for the outcome, right?” Rikki asked, noting how intrigued the shorter blonde was looking.

“I did, and since it’s Strength upright, that means you’re hoping for Inner Strength, Bravery, Compassion, and Focus.”

“No doubt to be able to handle my own shit with Grace, as well as everyone else’s shit,” he chuckled.

“The last card’s representative of what the final outcome’ll bring, all the others considered,” Siren concluded. “With it being the Emperor upright, that means Authority, structure, Control, and fatherhood Primarily.”

“So, wait–you’re saying he’s gonna eventually be a dad that’s able to keep shit together?” Bret asked, sounding surprised.

“As much as you already are,” she answered, nodding.

That took everyone in the room by surprise, especially when lil Marina giggled and crawled back into his lap to snuggle against him. His eyes somehow got even wider than they already were as he looked down at the lil girl, and he could almost feel the blood rushing outta his head as he finally noticed something he hadn’t before. Despite tipping up slightly at the outer corners, her eyes were the exact same Color as his, and he’d eat his own foot, if she didn’t have identical lips.

Even Rikki was surprised by the young Witch’s words as he, too, noticed those things about the lil girl–which he hadn’t paid any mind to the week previous. He knew they were gonna have to have a serious talk about that, but he was kinda curious about what the frontman’d get in a Tarot reading. Agreeing on the need to have a serious talk with him later, her mother gathered up her dealt Tarot cards and started shuffling them again. She wasn’t surprised by the shorter blonde looking up and finally agreeing to getting one done, now that he’d seen one for himself, and thought he no doubt wanted to know if he was about to be blindsided by yet more surprise babies.


	15. Fourteen

Siren wasn’t surprised by her daughter–whom she’d already pretty much admitted belonged to the frontman, too–scooting down outta his lap. Her fist was still clutched around the necklace he’d taken off earlier, which she handed to her with a giggle before Returning to where she’d been sitting. Taking the string of Turquoise beads, she let her eyes slip shut and tuned out the drummer explaining what she was doing to him with a chuckle.

After getting a good read on his Energy so she could zero in on him and only him, the young Witch started dealing another thirteen-card _Celtic Cross_. There was no telling what could come up in his reading, but based on what she knew about Bret–she was a fan of Poison, after all–much of it wouldn’t be good, both personally and professionally.

With the thirteen cards dealt out, she set the rest of her deck aside and shifted so she was actually sitting, rather than kneeling next to the coffee table. Only then did she start turning cards face-up, and part of her wasn’t surprised by the first and second ones in the least. That just made her even more curious about what else was gonna be revealed, and she could sense that his friends were all just as curious without even looking up at them.

“Didn’t we just see the Emperor in Rikki’s reading?” Mishy asked once she’d flipped over the final card.

“We did, but in his case, it was upright,” she answered. “In Bret’s, it’s reversed.”

“So, what’s that supposed to mean?” said frontman asked curiously, leaning forward a bit to see better.

“Tyranny, rigidity, and coldness,” Siren answered matter-of-factly.

He started to argue, but Rikki cut him off as gently as he could. “Dude, think about what a Control-freak ya are when it comes to songwriting, especially the guitar parts.”

He simply shot him a dirty look, but bit back whatever he’d been about to say.

“I just explained what the Devil upright meant, so let’s move on to the third card,” the young Witch told them. “It’s Death reversed, which means a Fear of Change, holding on, stagnation, and decay.”

“I wouldn’t say I Fear Change necessarily, but the last two kinda sound like the band some Days,” Bret admitted on a sigh. “And trying to hold on can be like riding a Bull in a bar sometimes.”

“Tell me about it,” the drummer dead-panned, even Bobby nodding.

“The fourth card’s the Wheel of Fortune upright,” Siren continued. “That means Change, Cycles, and inevitable Fate.”

None of them could quite figure out what that meant before the frontman’d a sudden brainstorm.

“I betcha that’s eluding to that call I got about CC earlier,” he mused.

Cocking a brow at him, Rikki asked what he meant, which allowed him an opening to finally discuss that call with him and the peanut-sized bassist. Even though he’d said he was willing to take one for the team so they could cancel the tour, he wasn’t taking the rehab program he’d checked himself into seriously. He’d been caught running through the place he was at, buck-nekkid and raving about aliens coming to get him with white powder around his mouth and nose. Bret still couldn’t figure out how on Earth he’d gotten a hold of coke in a rehab center, but addicts were addicts, he supposed.

Moving on to the fifth card, the young Witch said that it was the Magickian upright, which eluded to Willpower, Desire, Creation, and Manifestation. That could cover a broad spectrum of things in his Life, whether it was Romantic, Centered on the band, or anything in between. It didn’t really give them any hints on anything, other than to say that he was a strong-Willed guy, which they already knew.

The sixth card was the Ten of Cups reversed, and since she’d already gone over it, Siren didn’t bother repeating herself. She wasn’t gonna ask for clarification, but was just as surprised as Rikki and Bobby when the frontman offered it up, anywhore. All of them were surprised to hear him admit that his parents’d split up when he was fifteen, which was a big part of why he was such a Control freak now. He’d felt like his very Life was falling apart at the seams at an age when he and his sisters needed their parents together the most. No doubt that’d affected him way more than he’d realized back then, up to and including his recent split from _fiancé_ Susie Hatton.

After that came the seventh card, which was the Queen of Wands reversed, and its meaning wasn’t a good one. In that state, it meant selfishness, Jealousy, and insecurities, which told the young Witch that he was definitely a Control freak, likely jealous of his band mates’ seemingly decent relationships, and insecure about his own. Had he known about the drummer’s and peanut-sized bassist’s relationship issues, he likely wouldn’t have been feeling jealous of them and insecure.

“The eighth card’s the Three of Wands reversed,” she continued. “Again, I’ve gone over that one before, so I’m not doing it again.”

“I swear, that’s such a common theme for these idiots,” Mishy dead-panned, rolling her eyes.

“No shit, but they could be referring to many different things, depending on which idiot we’re talking about,” Siren pointed out, much to the guys’ chagrin.

“So, which one’s next?” the young ginger asked curiously.

“The Three of Pentacles upright,” the young Witch answered as she pointed to it. “Since it’s representing the distant Future, its meaning of teamwork, collaboration, and building’s a good thing.”

“Maybe that means we’ll get this shit with Poison straightened out,” Bret said thoughtfully.

“It very well could, but it could still mean something totally different, too,” she reminded him.

“Right,” he agreed with a nod, gesturing for her to continue.

“The tenth card–representing the overall opinion of the situation, if you’ll recall–is Ten of Wands reversed,” Siren told them. “That eludes to an inability to delegate, as well as being overstressed and burnt-out.”

“Well, who wouldn’t be even two months after a tour, whether they’ve an inability to delegate or not?” the frontman asked.

“Just means ya need a nice, long vacation to get your head on straight again,” she laughed. “Moving on, though. Here, we’ve Justice reversed, which eludes to dishonesty, unaccountability, and unfairness.”

“I haven’t a clue what that’s supposed to mean,” Bret said. He wasn’t about to admit to the plot already unfolding in his head when it came to their lead guitarist.

“Who knows, but we’ve still two more cardsta go,” the young Witch responded, shrugging.

“So, what’s next?” Rikki asked curiously.

“The Star upright,” Siren answered, moving her finger onto the twelfth card. “As a representation of the desire for the overall outcome, it eludes to Hope, Faith, and Rejuvenation.”

“Could be tying in with that Three of Pentacles,” Mishy mused, a thoughtful look on her face.

“It very well could, at the very least,” she agreed with a nod. “And the final card, representing what the final outcome’ll be, is the World upright again.”

As they all pondered what Bret’s Tarot reading could possibly be hinting at from Beginning to End, the young Witch started gathering up the dealt cards. She passed his necklace back to him before slipping them back into the black drawstring bag she kept them in when they weren’t in use, then rose to head over to her _Craft Cabinet_. Part of her didn’t wanna know exactly what those cards meant exactly–especially Justice reversed and where it’d popped up in the reading.

Knowing that some crazy shit was still on the horizon, Siren excused herself to the uncovered portion of her patio right outside the kitchen window. Even though she knew the frontman’d fill his friends in later, she didn’t want them overhearing their conversation, which she also knew he hadn’t forgotten about having. Given that it involved their daughter and a personal Past he likely didn’t even remember, she wanted privacy for this discussion. That, and it was just flat-out embarrassing for her to admit that she’d made such a mistake when she was smarter than that and knew better. It was those reasons that made her let out her first drag on a heavy sigh as she heard the back door slide open again.

“All right–Time to start talking.”

Bret followed the eccentric young woman outside once his friends’d gone to take bathroom breaks and change diapers, which thoroughly distracted them. He was dying to know if she was serious about him being a daddy earlier, or if she was just pulling his leg in some kinda sick and twisted joke. Considering that she’d already agreed to talk to him after what the group’d originally come over for, he knew it was now or never.

“I wasn’t lying about Marina being your daughter,” she said without even turning around to face him, almost as if she’d read his mind.

“What I wanna know, if you’re really telling the Truth–why didn’tcha get in touch with me about her sooner?” the frontman asked, gently turning her to face him.

Siren looked up at him with those beguiling Emerald eyes, and he could see all sortsa different Emotions swimming around in them. “I tried, and by the Time I finally got in touch with your manager, I’d almost given up. Howie laughing in my face when I finally got him to agree to a face-to-face meeting and saying she likely belonged to some other man just pissed me off.”

“He, _what!?”_ Bret barked, his expression suddenly shifting to pure Rage. “I’ll string him up by his fuckin’ neck to pull behind the bus! I can look at her and tell she got my eye Color and lips, no questions asked!”

“Guess I don’t have to ask if ya believe me or not,” the young woman said, her shrug not quite as nonchalant as she’d been hoping for.

“Yeah, I believe ya–kinda hard not to with the proof right in front of my face,” he grumbled, dragging a hand down said face. “God, I hope you’ve been taking her in for regular checkups…”

“Bret, just ’cuz I’m female and a Witch doesn’t mean I’m an idiot,” she groused. “I’ve been a fan since well before _Look What the Cat Dragged In_ was released, back when y’all were just touring the club circuit around the Greater Los Angeles area.”

The frontman didn’t even notice that he crossed his fingers as he hoped that meant what he thought it did.

“I remember that show at Madison Square Garden in ’87,” Siren continued. “Hell, I was out in the crowd that Night since I was lucky enough to score tickets since I knew I was gonna be out East visiting family–not that I wanted to visit ’em, that is.”

“Then you’re well aware of my diabetes?”

“Enough to know you’re Type I and have been since ya were six,” the young woman answered with a nod.

Bret just about couldn’t believe his Luck as he pulled out one of the patio chairs and planted his ass in it before he could fall. His sugar wasn’t bothering him at the moment, but finding out he’d a daughter he didn’t even know about–it Changed everything about his Life. Aside from wanting to be a part of hers and to help raise her, part of him was terrified that she’d inherited this rollercoaster of a disease–which’d been why a part of him didn’t even want kids.

Easily able to read his Emotions–she was a Water Witch, after all–the young woman pulled out the chair next to him and sat down. She told him that, due to knowing about his diabetes by the Time their baby girl was born, she made sure that Marina was closely monitored. Part of her reason for that turned out to be that diabetes ran in her family, and while it was mostly Type II, she knew that put her at an even higher risk of developing the disease. So far, the lil girl’d been lucky enough that none of her tests came back so much as hinting at it, but she still kept her on a carefully-Balanced diet and made sure she got regular exercise.

The frontman felt like he could simply slide outta his chair like a puddle of goo at hearing those words, the only thing stopping him being that concrete wouldn’t feel good on his tailbone. He couldn’t be more thankful and relieved to hear that the baby girl he hadn’t even known about didn’t have to live Life like he did, and at an age younger than even he’d been when he got diagnosed.

Siren couldn’t help a laugh at his reaction, but she certainly didn’t blame him for having it in the first place. As a Type I diabetic rocker the World had thought was a drug addict till his public admission about it, Life wasn’t easy for him. No doubt he didn’t want any kids he Ended up having to know that struggle, which was pretty Natural for any parent. Her laughter still made him look up at her with a cocked brow, which only made her laugh even harder as those already-pursed lips pursed even more when he frowned.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“The look on your face,” the young woman gasped through her laughter, finally managing to Calm down.

“Seemed more like ya were laughing at me, rather than my expression,” Bret dead-panned.

“Well, kinda,” she admitted. “More so that I don’t blame ya for being relieved that Marina’s not diabetic, too, than anything.”

“Can’t help feeling that way,” the frontman said, shrugging. “I mean, my childhood was shit since I’d to go back inside to eat and take shots, even when I didn’t wanna ’cuz I was having fun outside.”

“I can only imagine,” Siren told him. “And no doubtcha never want any of your kids to face that, either–hence why I don’t blame ya for being so relieved.”

“Still, I’ma be having words with Howie later,” he groused. “Laughing in your face and saying she’s not mine when she clearly is without even seeing a picture of her? Un-fuckin’-called for.”

“Oh, I don’t disagree with that,” the young woman said.

“I gotta ask, though–how old is she?” Bret was curious and wanted to know more about their daughter.

“She was born in July of ’87,” she answered. “So no, I didn’t know about your diabetes when we first slept together, but I did by the Time she was born.”

The frontman couldn’t help getting lost in Thought, trying to figure out if he actually remembered sleeping with this young woman or not. A lot’d happened during 1986 and 1987 when they were touring after the release of their debut album, and he’d undoubtedly slept with tons of chicks. He didn’t remember most, but he’d like to think an eccentric one like her’d stand out somewhere in his memory.

Just when he thought he’d have to give up before he gave himself a headache, a memory suddenly jumped out at him. Somehow, despite the drunken, drug-fueled haze he’d no doubt been lost in at the Time, he remembered having seen this chick on a tour stop in Norfolk, Virginia. If he recalled correctly, he’d nearly beaten the shit outta Bobby that Night, ’cuz the bassist often made it a point to try getting the chicks he knew his best friend was interested in. Siren was no exception to that apparent rule, and since the brunette hadn’t met Mishy at the Time–well, the War was on.

Only after nearly beating his best friend into the ER had he actually pursued the girl he’d his eye on from the moment he’d spotted her in the crowd. He didn’t really recall much after then, other than the fact that that tour stop’d been in mid-to-late September–which woulda been right around nine months before Marina’s Birth. Maybe it was a good thing he’d been the one to get the girl that Night, or his best friend would have a lot more problems at home from finding out about a surprise baby.

“I should hope you’re not gonna stop me from seeing my daughter,” Bret said, giving the young woman a look.

_ “Our_ daughter, dipshit,” she chuckled. “And the only way that’s gonna happen is if ya don’t cut back on the drinking and drugging.”

The frontman couldn’t help but stare at her, his jaw thankfully staying up where it belonged.

“Look, I’m not exposing her to that shit, just ’cuz you’re a rocker,” Siren huffed. “She’s had a good Life so far and is pretty well-adjusted–you’re not screwing that up by dragging that shit into the picture, just ’cuz ya know about her now.”

“Guess I don’t really have a choice,” he finally sighed, dragging his fingers through his hair. “The fact that that Devil card keeps coming up in those Tarot readings really makes me think that.”

“Well, like I’ve told Bobby, Rikki, and Mishy, it might not be eluding to you,” the young woman told him. “I mean, CC’s his problems, and so do the rest of y’all. It could be eluding to any one of ya four, or maybe all of ya at once, not just you.”

“That…actually kinda makes sense,” Bret said, looking thoughtful. “’Cuz even if _I_ get my shit cleaned up, she’d still be around that shit ’cuz of those drunken Monkeys.”

“Then I guess they’ll have to take those Tarot readings seriously and start cleaning up their own acts, too, huh?” she chuckled.

Nodding as they got up to head back inside, he knew he’d a lot about his Life that he’d to Change, if he wanted to be able to see his baby girl. If that turned him into a bit of a tyrant by harping on the guys even more about getting their acts together, too–well, he’d just have to become a tyrant. He wasn’t gonna give up the chance to be around Marina by being stupid, and he wasn’t letting his band mates get it taken away from him, either.

Back in the house, Rikki cocked a brow at the shorter blonde from where he lounged on the couch, the peanut-sized bassist sitting in his lap. There was some cartoon video in the VCR for all the kids to watch, but he’d been tuning it out since it was starting to drive him crazy. He wasn’t exactly surprised when Bret shook his head, making a motion to let him know they’d talk about it later.

Once the video hit its End and needed to be rewound so it could be watched again, they started getting Bobby and Zach ready to go. It was actually past their dinnertime now, which meant they’d to get back home so they could feed them before bathing them and putting them to bed. No doubt such was the case for lil Marina, who pouted and grabbed his friend’s leg in a tight hug that made him pry her loose and pick her up. He couldn’t hear what the shorter blonde said to her, but he somehow wasn’t surprised by the kiss he planted on her cheek before he set her back down and put back on the necklace he’d taken off earlier.

Today’d certainly been an eventful Day for all of them, and in so many more ways than one, that it was almost unbelievable. Hopefully, those Tarot readings from today combined with Bobby’s from the week previous offered them enough Insight to get their bassist back to normal. They’d figure out what to do about their personal Lives and anything regarding the band once that’d happened since those things’d be easier to do when he could talk. In the meantime, food, baths, and showers were a must, especially for the shocked frontman who was Silent for once on the way to the drummer’s house.


	16. Fifteen

It took another week or so to get Bobby, Rikki, and Bret to really and truly open up to one another, their final band mate still locked up in a padded room in a strait jacket. They still didn’t know what he was plotting in regards to the shortest blonde, but they knew the frontman was opening up about more stuff than he ever had before. Granted, everyone was shocked when the lone brunette finally made use of the _Scrabble_ tiles to come clean about his childhood, the words he spelled out bringing them all to tears.

Considering that they weren’t stupid, they were easily able to figure out how being abandoned by his Birth father as an unborn baby woulda affected him. No doubt that was part of why he’d been such a wild child in recent Years, and it’d contributed quite a bit to his heavy drinking. In fact, the guys’d say that he managed to drink more than GN’R’s Duff McKagan, which was a feat in its own right.

The aftermath of that kinda childhood wouldn’t have been good for anyone, but for a man with few coping skills–well, it was even worse. Alcohol was his go-to for coping when things got tough, not to mention just let loose and enjoy himself for once. Bret and Rikki couldn’t help a wince as they finally started to see why he’d such a temper when it came to getting the rest of them off their asses ’cuz there was work to be done. He’d things so much harder than they’d ever Dreamt of as a child, and he didn’t wanna live like that anymore, now that he was grown. Unfortunately, they’d just been making things harder on him without ever realizing just how much so, considering the Secrets he hid.

Once those things were brought up into the Light of Day, they realized just why he was struggling to make his marriage to Mishy work. It wasn’t just for the sake of their infant son like they’d originally thought, although that definitely played a big role in things. Bobby was struggling to hold on for himself just as much, given that his own parents’d been married when he was conceived, divorced by the Time he’d been born.

_ “I don’t wanna put Zach through that,”_ the drummer read after he’d rearranged the _Scrabble_ tiles yet again. _“Ya don’t have any clue what it’s like to live like that_–_like this, once you’re grown.”_

“They might not, Bobby, but I do.”

All eyes–even the tearful ones of the peanut-sized bassist–turned to look at Siren, who’d brought her daughter with her to the drummer’s house for this group meeting.

“I, too, was abandoned by my Birth father,” she said, looking him dead in the eye. “I was unborn like you, or between the ages of two and four months–depends on whose story ya believe. Either way, he’s never been a part of my Life–even after my mother and I moved out here to California–and I don’t care to ever have him be a part of it.”

“Wait, seriously?” Bret asked, staring at the mother of his daughter in shock.

“I’m originally from North Carolina–how else do ya explain the thick country drawl and me being at that Fateful Norfolk show a few Years ago?” the young Witch countered with a smirk.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Rikki breathed, equally surprised.

“Bobby’s right about growing up in such a way not being easy,” Siren continued. “All the _What ifs?_ and _Why didn’t Daddy love me enough to stick arounds?_ aren’t easy for anyone to cope with, especially a child.”

The peanut-sized bassist nodded vigorously, tears falling down his cheeks as she became his physical voice since she already knew how he felt.

Each of them noticed the frontman staring at her, a questioning look on his face.

“I never lied to Marina aboutcha,” she told him in response to that unasked question. “I didn’t know when, where, or how, but I _Knew_ we’d eventually cross Paths again–and that when we did, you’d prove to her how much ya loved her on your own.”

“So, what’d ya actually tell her in the meantime?” he asked curiously.

“That Daddy loved his job as much as he loved her,” the young Witch answered. “He was busy right now, but kinda like the soldiers overseas that protect us from bad guys, Daddy’d eventually come back to at least her.”

None of them, not even Mishy, could deny that Bret really did love what he’d picked as a career.

“Ya know, I can’t really say that’s a lie,” he said after a few moments. “Now that I know about her, I really do love Marina just as much as I love the band–she’s literally my flesh and blood, after all.”

“And ya _did_ wind up coming back to her, even though ya didn’t know about her before,” the drummer agreed with a nod.

“As a Water Witch, I knew that’d be the case,” Siren told them. “Considering how many Times she’s seen me Scry–both with my Tarot deck and with other means–and seen me turn out to be right, she knew she could trust me on that.”

They were all curious about what she meant by Scrying, and she was more than happy to explain what that was. Some considered it a very specific form of Divination, others like her simply used it as another word for it with the same meaning. It just depended on the Witch in question, ’cuz even if there were two of each Elemental Witches sitting side-by-side, they wouldn’t be completely identical. One might be an Earth Witch who also carried the title of Fox Witch, while her sister Earth Witch next to her carried the Secondary title of Wolf Witch instead. When thought about like that, the same could be said about the other three types of Elemental Witches–Air, Fire, and Water Witches.

After she’d explained that part, she got the conversation back on track as fluidly as a gently-flowing Stream, as was typical of a Water Witch like her. She told them that up till she’d turned eighteen, she’d been more or less the same way Bobby still was–questioning why her father’d abandoned her, wanting him to Return so desperately she could taste it.

It was after she’d managed to find what she thought was his most recent address and tried to send him a letter that bounced back that she finally gave up. The young Witch took that as her sign from the Universe that she just wasn’t meant to know her own dad like her daughter was, and that she was better off without him. Whether that reason was ’cuz he was really as abusive as her mother claimed he was, or something else altogether, she couldn’t say. All she knew was that he wasn’t meant to be a part of her Life, the Universe’d a reason why, and she just wasn’t meant to know that reason yet, if ever.

Once she’d come to terms with that, Siren started letting out her angst in other ways that were more Creative versus Destructive. Finding out she was pregnant after that Fateful Norfolk show was one of the happiest, yet most terrifying Days of her Life. Knowing how her mother was, she’d struck out on her own and managed to fend for herself, and her business of doing psychic readings for people was quick to catch on and start booming.

“I don’t charge out the ass for my services,” she told them. “Normally, my clients start out the same way things did with Rikki, Bobby, and Mishy.”

“Wait, really?” the young ginger asked, surprised to hear that.

_ “Mmm hmm_–it’s usually a chance meeting when I’m out and about, whether Marina’s with me or not,” Siren answered, nodding. “Me hinting at certain things usually piques their Curiosity enough that they eventually make use of the business card I give ’em, and it snowballs into ’em coming back anytime they’ve any other problems they need help with.”

“And once it snowballs, ya charge them, but really just enough to buy a Happy Meal or something, right?” Rikki asked.

“Not even that much, actually,” the young Witch laughed. “They usually fork over two or three Times that much and won’t lemme give it back, ’cuz they’re so grateful for my help.”

“Well, shit,” Bret chuckled. “Sounds like a helluva way to run a business.”

“Eh, part of it’s ’cuz Marina usually interrupts us for something,” she admitted. “Once they see that I’ma single mom, they usually fork over more than they were originally gonna, even though I don’t want the charity and pity.”

“And ya get told that if ya won’t keep it for yourself, keep it for her, right?” Mishy asked.

“Pretty much, so that’s what I do,” Siren answered. “Three-quarters of it goes on her and her needs, the other quarter gets split between mine and replacing Witchy supplies.”

“Somehow, I get the feeling those supplies aren’t cheap,” the frontman mused.

“The ones I actually buy aren’t,” she laughed. “I know how to make my own essential oils, so I can get a lot more outta the batches I make, myself versus paying at least five bucks for an eighth of an ounce, if I’m lucky.”

“Do ya make your own Candles, too?” the drummer asked curiously.

“Yeah, actually–and the only things I’ve to buy for those’re the wax, jars to pour ’em in, and any dyes so they turn out the Colors that I want or need,” the young Witch told them. “The ones I use for spell work never get scented, but the ones scattered around the house can be scented with anything I want before they cool enough to solidify in the jars.”

“So, if I told ya that I wanted one scented with that resin stuff ya gave Mishy for her Tarot reading, but wanted it to be in black and red layers, ya could do it?” the shorter blonde asked.

“It’d be a pain in the ass, given that I’d have to wait for each layer to solidify before I could pour the next one–which’d make them get a lil jumbled up from it melting the one before it a bit–but yeah, I could make a Dragon’s Blood-scented black-and-red layered Candle,” Siren told him.

“Well, damn,” Rikki chuckled, even Bobby looking Awed at the Thought.

She couldn’t resist letting out her own chuckle as she said that it took practice to be able to do such things, just like it did with mastering an instrument. That was a comparison that they could get well enough, ’cuz they knew what it was like to have to practice for Years before they’d gotten good enough to form a band, never mind get signed.

From there, they let Rikki take his turn with getting shit off his chest and dredging up things the guys’d never known about. The peanut-sized bassist wasn’t surprised when he even admitting to sleeping with Mishy several Times since he’d woken up as a baby, which made his wife blush furiously. Bret was shocked that he wasn’t getting mad about it, which just made him shrug before he hauled himself up by grabbing the edge of the coffee table. His lil hands moved furiously, now that his right one’d Healed enough to lose the cast, before he stepped back to let them read.

The frontman was surprised when he read that Bobby’d known about it happening before it ever did, if only ’cuz the drummer’d warned him. Since he obviously couldn’t do anything to satisfy her at the moment, he hadn’t cared if Mishy caved and slept with him. Well, he _had_ cared, ’cuz he was still a bit of a jealous ass about her–but knowing she was sleeping with a guy he knew and trusted was easier than finding out she was cheating some some random yahoo.

“Well, I guess that’s definitely one way to look at it,” Bret admitted. “And really not much different from all the girl-sharing we used to do when we first started the band, honestly.”

He simply shrugged again as he suckled his paci, which he’d have done, even in his normal state.

“I guess I just hope that this helps with getting Bobby back to normal–and soon,” Rikki sighed. “I mean, we’re supposed to be doing that gig for the _VMAs_–if we can spring C, that is–but how the fuck’re we supposed to do that, if he’s still a baby?”

“I’d offer to fill in since I’ma brunette too–but it’d be pretty obvious that it wasn’t Bobby onstage with y’all since I’m so short,” Siren laughed.

“Wait, seriously?” the frontman asked.

“Hey, I’ve far more interests than just Witchy shit,” she shot back with a grin. “And playing bass happensta be one of ’em.”

“Well, _day-um,”_ the drummer chuckled. “But yeah, too bad that’d make it too obvious, or I’d say we oughta take ya up on it.”

“There’s still three Days till then, though,” the young Witch continued. “Given the ground that’s finally been covered just today, who knows what the Universe’ll do in that Time?”

None of them could deny that she’d a point as Marina finally appeared from the guest room upstairs, where they’d put her and Zach down for a nap. Rubbing her eyes as she crawled into her own daddy’s lap, she told them that said baby was making unhappy noises and wasn’t having any of her attempts at trying to Soothe him. Giggling as she rose, his mama told her that was likely ’cuz he needed his diaper changed and he was hungry, which was perfectly normal behavior after his nap.

As he watched his wife head upstairs, Bobby suckled his paci while the drummer was getting up to take him up for a diaper change of his own. He certainly hoped the young Witch was right in saying that the Universe could very well Return him to normal in Time for that all-important show. But even if it didn’t in Time for that, he still just wanted to be able to piss and shit in a toilet again, not a diaper.

The next Morn, Bobby awoke to a minuscule amount of Sunlight streaming through the curtains of the nursery his wife and drummer’d finally set up for him and Zach. He’d been settled in the crib they’d bought next to said son, the other pair wanting another raunchy Night since they hadn’t had one in a while. It was outta Respect that they tried to keep sleeping together to a minimum, but even they couldn’t do without some kinda sexual activity forever.

When he made to stretch so he could stand up and crawl over the rail of the crib again, he realized his feet hit what was supposed to be a footboard instead of not coming anywhere close. Lifting his head in surprise, he made a second startling realization–there was hair tickling his chest and shoulders that he wasn’t used to anymore. Only looking down at himself did he finally grasp what was going on, and he couldn’t help the ecstatic grin on his face as he took it in. After nearly two months spent in the body of a baby, he was finally back to normal, and he couldn’t possibly be happier.

Careful not to accidentally kneel on his son–who was starting to wake up–the bassist leaned over and grabbed the rail latches the way he’d seen Mishy and Rikki do it. Lowering the rail from the inside was a bit harder than he’d anticipated, but it’d be easier to get outta this thing without hurting either of them once that was done.

“All right, lil man–let’s get that diaper changed so Daddy can go raid Uncle Rikki’s closet,” he murmured, gently picking his son up once he’d freed himself.

Zach looked up at him with wide brown eyes, then finally smiled around his paci as he grabbed a hank of his hair.

“Yeah, Daddy’s finally back to normal,” Bobby chuckled, craning his neck to kiss his forehead. “And Daddy hopes it stays that way forever.”

“What the– Wait a minute–_Bobby!?”_

Turning just enough to look over his shoulder, he grinned when he saw the drummer in the doorway. “Get over here and gimme a hug, or go get me some clothes, asshole!” the bassist laughed.

“I think I’ll go get those clothes,” Rikki chuckled. “Good to have ya back and all, but I’d rather hug a dressed man.”

He couldn’t help laughing again as his friend took off, no doubt to wake his wife at the same Time he was grabbing him some clothes.

“I’m serious, Mishy–he’s already working on changing Zach’s diaper!” he heard from down the hall.

“Sounds like Mama doesn’t believe him,” Bobby chuckled as he finished cleaning his son’s rump up.

Said baby merely giggled, but it seemed as if he really understood him–and maybe he did.

Moments later, the drummer came barreling back through the nursery door, hand gripping the young ginger’s wrist as gently as he could manage. She yawned and rubbed her eyes with her other hand as she stumbled along behind him, her satin robe somewhat askew from where she’d hastily pulled it on. Looking up once her eyes adjusted to the somewhat brighter Sunlight, she couldn’t help her jaw dropping as she took in the sight before her.

Where he’d been a chubby-cheeked toddler with an equally chubby belly even twelve hours ago, Bobby was now the same tall, skinny man she’d fallen in Love with. She wouldn’t say he was ripped and looked like a total gym rat by any means, but he’d enough muscle to tell he was generally fairly active, as long as he wasn’t sick.

It was then that she realized he was completely nekkid, the clothes they’d put him to bed in totally shredded in the crib. No doubt that’d happened ’cuz of the Universe Returning him to normal in his sleep, although how it’d managed that without making him Destroy the piece of furniture, she didn’t know. Even as a blush crept up her face, she couldn’t help the Thought that where she’d have killed or died to see this again, something’d Changed. There weren’t necessarily any Romantic feelings for Rikki, but she realized that in sleeping with him, the Change in her feelings toward her husband were made more obvious to her.

Bobby could tell his wife still loved him as he picked their son up off the changing table, but he wasn’t a total moron. He knew that her feelings’d Changed as much as his own had, but neither of them’d been willing to admit it before. Maybe their getting divorced and co-parenting their son wouldn’t be such a bad thing–in all Honesty, it might actually be the better way to go. They’d just have to give things another shot, now that he was physically able to, and see if it worked out or not. If it didn’t and they split up, at least they wouldn’t be putting their son through the stress Bret’d once gone through.

“I can’t fuckin’ believe it,” Mishy breathed in Awe, finally reaching out to play with his hair.

“Neither can I,” he chuckled. His voice sounded kinda rough and gritty, but that was as much from having just woken up as disuse for nearly two months.

“I guess yesterday’s talk Ended up helping more than we thought it was gonna,” the drummer said, chuckling as he handed him the clothes he’d grabbed for him once he’d handed Zach to her.

“I guess so,” Bobby agreed as he took the clothes. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he chuckled. “Only thing ya _didn’t_ get is boxers, ’cuz–just, no.”

“I don’t wanna wear anyone else’s smelly boxers, anywhore!” the bassist laughed, stepping into the jeans he was forced to borrow.

“Hey, my boxers don’t stink–it’s just gross to share that kinda shit!” Rikki shot back with a laugh of his own.

“Yeah, okay–I’ll letcha keep living with that lil delusion,” he chuckled as he closed the fly.

It felt so good to simply be able to talk again, never mind have to lean down to actually kiss his wife, that he couldn’t help feeling giddy. Bobby’d pretty much forgotten how it felt to be a grown man who pretty much towered over everyone around him at six-foot-even, rather than having to look up to see their faces. Now that he was back to normal, he wasn’t quite sure what he wanted to do first–he just knew he wanted it to involve those he loved.

While he might still be the baby of the band since he was still the youngest member, at least it was no longer in the literal sense. As long as he retained what he’d learned about Communicating in the very least, hopefully there wouldn’t be a repeat performance. There was still a lotta shit to work on, but as said in their song _Let it Play,_ he’d cross that Bridge when he came to it.


End file.
